


Darkness in a Bright Place

by cybergirl614, MAPMonstersArePerceptions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Epilepsy, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Master Gabriel, PTSD, Past Abuse, Slave Sam, Slow Build Gabriel/Sam Winchester, gabriel is human, slavefic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:49:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAPMonstersArePerceptions/pseuds/MAPMonstersArePerceptions
Summary: Slavery exists.  Humanity and associated rights are reserved only for those who are not slaves; everyone knows that.  The medical world only acknowledges and searches for treatments for physically apparent conditions.  Most mental and neurological conditions have long been derided and considered an embarrassment and character failing.  What happens when a slave that, at least on paper,  has nothing wrong with him is returned too many times?  Could any master show sympathy for the abused individual?  Could the slave come to recognize safety after years of pain?  Slave!Sam Master!Gabriel Epileptic!Sam PTSD!SamAnything recognizeable does not belong to us!





	1. Daily Life...On Its Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story now has headings for POV and italics for flashbacks!

Sam 

Sam wondered who had gotten on Master Bastard’s bad side at this time of night. The woosh of a whip was impossible to mistake. He hoped that he could get a few more hours of sleep before it was time to work again. His eyes were impossibly heavy…. Minutes? Years? later, his back felt like it was on fire. Apparently, he was the one being whipped. He could hear the Bastard yelling at him to get up; it sounded like it was from the other side of the house rather than from the same room. Sam could just make out the blurry sight of a broken window. Huh. It wasn’t night after all. Looked like he wouldn’t be staying here any longer. Sam internally grinned. He broke a record here. He hadn’t even lasted a week. Hatred surged through him. He knew that soon the slave traders would stop “wasting resources” on him and would cease trying to sell him. Well at least he could have the last laugh with this last monster. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing him whimper or scream. Sam did not know that the only reason he was silent was because he had already lost his voice.

 

\----------------

 

Gabe 

Gabriel groaned. His twice-damned interfering grandparents were pushing the issue of their grandson needing a slave. He smirked. Because they controlled his money, he had to get a slave. That didn’t mean he had to get a good one though, nor would he be as asshole-ish as his mom’s side. Any slave of his would at least be treated as well as his grandfather treated his award-winning mutts.

 

Sam 

Smiling hurt, but smiling freaked out the assholes debating whether or not he was worth “food”. Anything that made them a little less sure about themselves was worth it, in Sam’s mind. A slave from the cage next to him gave him a curious glance and suggested that he back off with the freakish smiles if he wanted to last. That wiped the smile off Sam’s face, not because he cared if he left this hellhole, but because it reminded him of Fifty. Fifty was the last person to give a damn about him and the reason he went by “Five-oh” with any slaves he met….

 

_Sam had been terrified when he was separated from his brother. The gruff manner of the_  
_slave in charge of training him at his new house didn’t help matters. Eventually though,_  
_he found an ally in the older slave and the two bonded. “Fifty” as Sam was told to call him,_  
_was the last person to be told Sam’s name. He kept Sam’s secret about his attacks and_  
_helped Sam meet his quota when an attack made him too tired to keep up. After an_  
_attack, once it was safe to lie down and rest, the older slave would pat his head and say in_  
_his gruffest manner “Ya lil idjit, sleepin’ on the job’s gonna getcha in a world o’ hurt_  
_whether yeh flap yer arms or not”. It always made Sam smile, knowing that this one_  
_person cared that he tried to stay safe; of course, he couldn’t control when he “flapped his_  
_arms”, but the sentiment was still there, hidden under a rough exterior. Everything was_  
_going pretty good until security cameras were put in the factory. The master didn’t take_  
_kindly to Sam wasting his time even if the work got done. The last thing he remembered_  
_about that place was seeing Fifty get a whipping meant for him. After that, Sam never told_  
_anyone his name. If asked by a slave, he gave the first two numbers of his slave ID,_  
_Five-oh, in honor of Fifty. If asked by a master, his number was 50283._

 

Sam came back from his flashback in time to hear another master come looking for a slave. Apparently, he was from some fancy-schmancy family and all the assholes were kissing his. Sam felt like smirking when the master decided instead of working over the top-end slaves, to shop in the “discount” section. He didn’t particularly care why the dude wanted a cheap-ass slave, Sam just liked seeing the grins fall from the idiots’ faces. The master didn’t appear to be seeing anything he liked, as if there ever was anything good in a master to begin with, and Sam assumed that he’d go to some other store when their eyes made contact. 

 

Gabe 

Gabe wanted to groan. He wanted to stick-it to his relatives but did all of the discount slaves have to be old? All he wanted was to find a slave his age that would be just inappropriate enough to get on Nana’s nerves. Was that too much to ask? Then he saw him. The slave was perfect! Unlike most of the slaves, his hair was a shaggy mess. Based only on what he could see, Gabe was certain that this slave must have a discipline problem (read: not a zombie); his face was black and blue! Add on that underneath it, he could see a lot of potential in the looks department, Gabe practically dragged the trader up front to pay.  


\-----------------------  


Sam

Sam hated his life. What crime had he committed that was so horrible as to warrant this joker as his new master? He was so close, so close to finally ending the endless yoyo-ing between master and trader, master and trader. There was literally nothing about him that encouraged masters to choose him, so what does this rich freak do? Choose him of course! Sam wanted to bang his head into the wall, but the idiot had started opening his great maw, and he should probably pay attention to see just what he’d have to put up with here. “Finally, we’re home! 6,000 sq ft for more than I paid for you per month! Here’s the kitchen. You’ll do most of the cooking, but baking’s fun. If I go into the kitchen to bake, I expect you to stay out, so you don’t mess with my baking mojo. Here’s my room...” here he opened a door and pointed to a bedroom filled with a humongous bed that could easily fit five slaves with room to spare. “Your room’s over there...” a careless flick of the thumb pointed to another door; what was inside the door was anyone’s guess. “Hey, ya got a name? I can’t just call you slave. When we go to my grandparents, I’d see a hundred heads look up if I called ya that.” The master chuckled, and Sam spat out the digits to his ID “50283, Master”. “Uh yeah, no. Sorry, I really suck at remembering numbers. Hey, has anyone told you that you’re like really tall? Seriously, you’re freakishly tall. And I’ve never seen a slave with such a mop of hair. You’re just a hairy giant, aren’t you? I know what I’ll call ya! From now on, you are Sasquatch, the tall, hairy slave. Then when we go to my grandparents, I can call ya Sassy! How do you like that, eh Sasquatch?” Sam took that as a rhetorical question and just waited impatiently to be told what to do. Banging his head against the wall was looking more and more like a good idea.

 

Gabe 

Gabe now knew what it felt like to have the puppy his grandmother always denied him. Sassy was like a silent shadow following him around. If it weren’t for his size, he’d be afraid of tripping over him! The hair, oh that deliciously messy mop of hair, completed the look. Gabe was just telling Sassy about his wonderful studio and how Sass shouldn’t be afraid to come in said studio anytime Gabe was in there (that body just begged to be drawn), when he caught another glimpse of the slave’s head, previously shielded by hair. Gabe could appreciate art and the many colors of the rainbow. That didn’t mean that he liked the rainbow on Sasquatch’s cheek. He swiftly left the studio for the kitchen where he threw a bag of frozen peas at his slave. “Catch! You hold that to your face for a bit, let’s see if we can’t get that horrendous bruising to go down a bit.”

 

Since they were in the kitchen, Gabe decided to bring up the topic of dinner and opened the fridge. “While we’re in here, let’s see if we can’t figure out what to have for dinner. Hmmm…. I’m thinking chick--no wait, had that yesterday. Maybe salmon? Eww...yeah we definitely don’t want that. I don’t think milk is supposed to have chunks in it….Yay! My sister, Anna, saved the day! The other day she brought some delicious stroganoff over. That’ll do for dinner.” Gabe threw the pan of stroganoff into the oven on low heat and turned to his new slave who looked rather more apathetic to the stroganoff than he liked. Then again, Gabe supposed that he wouldn’t be very hungry either if he looked like he had romped around in a mud pit. Maybe the puppy would feel better with a little direction and a hot bath. In his best mimicry of his grandfather at his best, he exclaimed, “Well I certainly hope you aren’t planning on having supper looking like that! Go ahead, get undressed and into the bathtub. I won’t have you tracking any dirt into this kitchen young man!” Gabe had to stifle his giggles at his impersonation of his hated grandfather, but it wasn’t quite so funny seeing how Sasquatch jumped at his words. Seeing the stripes on his back when he undressed right in front of him made Gabe want to barf. Now he understood why his puppy walked so stiffly. The baggy clothes he was in previously had hidden wounds that were still weeping slowly, and seeing the poker-faced slave subtly flinch upon seeing dirt on the floor just hurt. It was just a joke, not something to be taken seriously. Gabe and Sasquatch entered the bathroom where Gabe set the water at a decent temperature and left Sasquatch with instructions to clean himself as best he could while he searched for his first aid kit.

 

Sam 

Sam really did not know what game his master was playing and keeping track of his mood swings and trains of thought just increased the pounding in his head. He had no idea why the dumbass decided to waste hot water and soap on him if he was just going to punish him afterwards for dirt on the floor, and he really didn’t appreciate the commentary on his dinner. It was enough that he had to eat it, did his master think it humorous to describe just how inedible everything was before giving it to his slave? He just hoped that the fish and milk weren’t old enough that he would get ill this early into the game. He had to be firing on all cylinders to keep up with this dumbass.

 

Gabe 

After Sasquatch left the tub, Gabe helped sanitize the wounds and wrap them as best he could. He wished Anna was there but knew that all he’d get for it was a ration of shit for wasting money on such a useless slave in the first place. He didn’t see anything wrong with making sure his slave didn’t get ill. It saved money in the long run even if his slave’s creepy “you’re an idiot” looks were really freaking him out. After getting his Sasquatch wrapped up in his spare robe, Gabe pulled out a chair in the kitchen for the slave to sit in. Kneeling on the floor would simply be agony marked up like he was. That it would give his grandparents a stroke was just a bonus. 

 

Sam 

Mr. “You’re Sasquatch, Sassy for short!” was demented and determined to bring Sam down with him. First he insisted that Sam take a chair for reasons only he knew. Then he put some sort of meat, noodle, and cream concoction on a plate in front of him. More, he put the same mixture on his own plate. What game was he playing now? All Sam wanted to do was choke down the fish and milk mixture that was described in such great detail to him earlier. Hopefully he could perform whatever duties would be demanded when the idiot went to bed without puking his guts out and then he could maybe curl up in some corner in “Sasquatch’s Room” for a few hours of sleep. Was there really so much amusement to be found in emphasizing what he wouldn’t be eating? Suddenly, the plate was pushed closer and the command given to eat. Maybe the dude had a fetish for puking slaves and wanted him to be stuffed first. Thirty minutes later, when Sam found himself on a miserably short couch with an actual blanket to keep warm and a distinct lack of fish or milk in his system, he could barely summon the energy to be annoyed at the childish whims of his new master. It would be some time before the foreign, even somewhat sickening idea of feeling grateful crossed his mind. After all, the mouse doesn’t thank the cat for playing games with it.


	2. Ahh... The Memories/Nightmares!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's got a fever...Gabe is incompetent. What nightmarish memories will the day bring? Read and see!

Sam 

_It was impossible to imagine hotter weather. No rain had been seen in over a month, much to the slaves’ dismay. To ensure that plant life could thrive, slaves had been put on a ration throughout Novac Industries. A malnourished nine-year-old found it particularly difficult to cop with the change and likely wouldn’t have survived the summer of ‘92 but for his protective older brother. For all that his body needed it, Sam had to protest when his brother helped him up in their corner and ordered him to drink an entire bottle of water in one go. After he drank half of it, his brother wasted what he couldn’t drink pouring it onto a cloth. The coolness of the cloth on his skin felt heavenly, but Sam shivered fearing the repercussions. He didn’t want to see Dean get whipped again, especially not for trying to help him feel better._

 

Gabe 

For such a skinny thing, Sasquatch sure could swing a punch. All Gabe wanted to do was mop up some of the sweat pouring off Sassy’s head with a wet washcloth. Was that so bad? If the bruised cheek he was sporting was any indication, it was equivalent to a whipping in Sassy’s fevered mind. Gabe got a non-spilled bottle of water and tried again to get the sick slave to drink. 

 

Whoever thought selling injured slaves was a good idea, didn’t think of the cleanup that came when they were out of their mind with fever! After seven spilt water bottles, three tossed bowls of soup (you gave that to sick people right?), a dark purple stain on the already ugly couch from overturned fever reducer, and yet another attempt to punch him, Gabe was seriously wondering why he bothered. There was just something so fragile about the giant of a man curled up in a corner of his spare room that he couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t his lack of weight, Gabe had seen boney slaves before while at his grandparents. They didn’t call to him. Something about the sorrowful eyes of Sas when he would beg the ghostly image of a Dee or Tee not to leave reminded him of that fateful dinner when Ca- NO Sasquatch did not remind him of his little brother. They were nothing alike, and there was no reason to connect the two...no matter how it hurt to look in his eyes…. Sasquatch was a slave, simply a rebellious slave who should be thanking Gabe for deigning to care for him. Gabe decided to give it another hour to see if he could get his slave to eat something before he called in reinforcements. 

\---------------

Sam 

Sam didn’t know what was going on. He was in the corner of a strange room facing what looked like it once was a couch. It currently was a sopping mess of fabric with bottles and broken dishes all around it. It looked like someone puked on it earlier. Though weak, Sam pushed himself up to try to fix the mess. Surely no master would want such a monstrosity in their posh house. He had just finished picking up all of the bits of china (to the displeasure of his hands and feet) and started trying to (futilely) dry the couch with a blanket he found on the floor when the door opened. Shit! The master entered and did not look happy. “What the hell do you think you’re doing????” he bellowed. Sam noted that he was carrying what looked like a bowl of porridge and worried his lip wondering if the mess was actually there on purpose. He couldn’t think of a reason why someone would want to pour bowl after bowl of soup and porridge onto his furniture, but he was fairly certain that the goal of any master was to make his life as miserable as possible. Maybe the mess was being made so that he would have extra to clean up later. Who knew? Either way, he was distinctly without a safe way to answer the question of what he was doing and just whimpered. Sam’s body felt like it was on fire already, and he really was not looking forward to whatever punishment would come from this. 

Suddenly, he was yanked to his feet and pulled away from the mess. Unfortunately, the movement angered his stomach, and he found himself throwing up bile all over his master’s shirt. Strangely, he was not thrown onto the ground but taken to the ensuite of a bedroom with the largest bed he had ever seen. Once his stomach calmed, he was half-carried to said bed where a cold fear swept through him. He could see his master removing the soiled shirt and heard his master demand that he strip out of the filth-ridden robe he was wearing as well. Shaking so hard that he could barely obey, it was some minutes after he had done so before he calmed down enough to see nothing was happening. His master was kneeling, kneeling! before him with a first aid kit (this was his new master, the idiot one!) apparently planning on rewrapping his old wounds and putting band-aids on the deeper cuts on his hands and feet. Sam felt all of the energy leave his body. While trying to stay in an upright position to make things easier (and hopefully not anger his master), he caught scraps of what his master was saying. “-been sick a while, ‘Quatch….soup without pouring on me? ...Sleep.” As the final bandage was wrapped, Sam felt himself lose the battle with staying upright and wondered how long he would be permitted to stay in this wonderland of dreams where masters took care of slaves.

Gabe 

The shirt. It just had to be the shirt. Gabe wasn’t upset that his shirt was ruined. It was an older one anyway. No, it was the memories associated with the act that upset him. He had tried so hard over the last forty-five minutes to dissociate Sasquatch with his brother, and all of the effort became meaningless in thirty seconds flat. In the days before the cursed dinner at which he stormed out of his grandparents mansion, his brother had had an especially violent episode. While the rest of the family was busy doing their own thing, Gabe cleaned him up. He had been angry because he had to cancel a date to do so. He yelled at him and got puked on for his trouble. It hurt so much to be reminded of that. He certainly did not think that Sasquatch was his brother; in looks they were polar opposites and the lust he felt when he first saw him was too strong. But whatever ability he had to separate him based on class was wiped away. He had some thinking and planning to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember wonderful readers, Cybergirl614 and I love to get feedback. Loved the chapter? Hated it? Let us know! More will come next Friday :)


	3. Three Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kitchen's a mess. Sam messes up. Will Gabe ever start to make sense?

Sam

The light was too bright. A figure moved in front of the light temporarily shielding Sam from its brightness. “Morning sleepy-head!” Ah, he recognized that voice. Sam had been in his master’s room for three days now, in and out of consciousness. This “morning” he felt a little stronger and hoped that he may actually be allowed to leave the bed. It wasn’t that his body did not like the break, but sleeping in this room was dangerous. Even if his master didn’t choose to use his body, a useless slave was a dead slave. Besides that, so much interaction with his master practically guaranteed said master seeing an incident. Sam didn’t know why his master was so lenient with him while he was sick, but he knew that until a different side was shown, it was to his benefit to try to stay with him. After yet another bowl of porridge (with actual sugar!), his master declared that he was going out but would be back in a few hours and to rest. Sam decided to take advantage of the time alone to try to get some work done; he didn’t think he could stand another hour in the lavish bed. It didn’t take long to figure out where to start. The kitchen was a disaster zone. He was unable to compute how so many dishes had been used in only three days, and his master apparently got into a fight with a pot of water and lost if the flood near the stove was any indication. Sam was truly baffled but rolled up his sleeves to get to work. While working, he thought of the many kindnesses his strange master had bestowed on him. The effort to heal him alone constituted far more effort than any other master would have put forth, especially on a new slave. That he had no memories of other slaves taking care of him made it unfathomable. The only person he could remember entering the room from the moment he was put on the bed was his master, coming to help him to the bathroom, to help him eat and drink, even help him bathe when his body became caked in sweat. Then yesterday he awoke in a strange state. He had become so accustomed to being either in rags or naked that he immediately noticed the new, warm clothing touching his skin. While he was sleeping, his master had arranged clothing for him and dressed him. Even more amazing than that, the clothes fit! These weren’t cast-offs from his closet, nor was there any wear and tear in the fabric wherever he got it. Beyond that, he had been unable to find any price that was taken from his body for the privilege. His hole still felt as whole as it did before the softness touched him. Sam could not guess why this strange freeman saw him as worth the effort, but he was truly thankful. He knew that if the illness had struck while still in the cages with the traders, he would have died surrounded in his own filth and vomit. It occurred to him that not resting when ordered to do so could have horrible consequences; then again, anywhere else it would certainly have been a trick where not cleaning led to punishment. At least by scrubbing the plates and pots, he could feel somewhat useful, whatever the end result would be. If the master did punish him, he would know how not to push later. 

Gabe

When Gabe returned, the first thing he noticed was a distinct lack of odor from the kitchen. He could have sworn that when he left, it smelt like a mix of burnt porridge and, oddly enough, strawberries. He irrationally hoped that it was just his nose getting used to the scent and that Sas hadn’t cleaned up the disaster zone that constituted the kitchen. He was still weak from the illness for goodness sake! After putting the case of cupcakes (from a place that was semi-decent, only if you didn’t compare it to his of course!) on the decidedly-not-messy kitchen counter, he went searching for his new roommate. The sight was decidedly adorable. The pup was standing at the entrance to his bedroom staring at the brand new bed (no way was he going to keep that couch in the loft, even if it was possible to fix it!). His head was tilting in a way that just screamed confused doggy. Ugh, why did all the cute scenes always happen when his pad was up in the studio? Why? Why? Finally (after a full minute had passed being ignored in favor of the updated bedroom), Gabe couldn’t stand it any more. “Ohhhhh, Pupppy! I’m home!” Still nothing. Grabbing Sasquatch’s shoulder, he tried again. “Hey Sasquatch, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I tell ya to rest while I was away? Just a guess, but I don’t think the cleaning pixies stopped for a visit. Unless I’m hallucinating, that kitchen sure looks different than when I left. Oh well, guess I’ll have to punish you and make you wait ‘til dinner for cupcakes!” Through most of that statement, ‘Quatch had kept his silent and still position. When he said punishment, however, Sas broke out of his hold and crouched holding his knees, shivering, and rocking silently. “Hey, hey don’t worry ‘bout it Sas. Everything’s okay. Look, I’ll wait ‘til dinner too for the cupcakes, and you can choose first. Everything’s okay. No reason to be spooked. Everything’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. How ‘bout I get you a blanket from your new bed, you look cold.” Gabe could punch himself. What idiot uses punishment in an innocent conversation with a slave? Hadn’t he learned his lesson when Sas got dirt on the floor? After getting the promised blanket, he got two mugs of (not too) hot chocolate, hoping that that would steady both of them. 

Sam

Sam could not believe he had messed up so badly. First he cleaned when his master apparently did not want him to. Admittedly, that was a planned action and probably was forgivable. Having an attack in front of him though, did the universe hate him? He finally found somewhere that almost seemed acceptable (without his brother, he couldn’t imagine any place being acceptable), the first place that he actively wanted to stay since he was with Fifty, and this happened. He knew any minute now that the respite of drinking this warm brown liquid would end, and his punishment would start. He doubted that it would be something as benign as having to wait for cupcakes (whatever those were). 

 

The way Sam saw it, he had three strikes against him. He cleaned when he wasn’t supposed to. He looked into a bedroom that was obviously meant for his master’s guests, and he had an attack that his master witnessed. The punishment was sure to be severe, and he would have to pull out all the tricks to even have a chance of staying here. As his post-attack shivers eased, he heard his master talking. His voice was strangely calm. He questioned Sam’s opinion on the bedroom - was it a taunt or an earnest question? When he expressed that “It is nice, Master,” said master surprised him further by stating that it was his. Shaking his head to clear it and unaware of how puppy-like the action made him look, he tuned back into his master in time to hear him state that the couch was unrecoverable and far too ugly for his stylish loft anyway. As he talked, Sam grew more confused. The bed was for his use even when he was not ill? The blankets, good thick blankets, were for his use throughout the night? Sam wanted to laugh. Next he would be told that his master wished for him to continue eating thrice a day or call him by something other than master. Needless to say, it was somewhat difficult to keep his jaw from dropping when he was sat at the kitchen table thirty minutes later with a sandwich in front of him and a new name to call his master in private - Gabe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and Review! Please! And for those in the USA, Happy Late Thanksgiving!


	4. Cupcakes and Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe concludes that cupcakes need extra frosting. Sam worries about the attacks....

Gabe

Gabe was gobsmacked. His mind simply could not compute the idea. Sassy had never had a cupcake before?!?!?!? Suddenly, nothing was more important than fixing such a travesty. He only mourned that Sasquatch’s first experience with the sugary-baked goodness would not be one of his own creations. Gabe immediately laid out all of the different flavors of yumminess after dinner and had Sassy try each and order them from best to worst. At least, that’s what he tried to get him to do. Based on Sassy’s face, Gabe was pretty sure this was the first time flavor played a role in what he ate. He seemed to have difficulty understanding that Gabe wanted him to state a preference. Thankfully, Gabe was able to get some idea of what he liked best by his facial expressions. The shock and awe that touched his eyes when he tasted something he liked was horrifying in its beauty. Gabe would be the first one to admit that cupcakes were delicious; the idea that they would be deserving of such a face though, and what that said about Sasquatch’s past made him want to shudder. Luckily, Sasquatch was exceptionally good at providing distractions from disturbing thoughts. The corner of his mouth had just a tiny smudge of icing. Entranced, Gabe wiped it away with his thumb, licking the frosting off his finger. Yummy, apple. Sasquatch seemed to favor the fruity flavors. His eyes actually closed in bliss when he bit into the strawberry flavored cupcake. Gabe made a note to bake some fruity confections soon so that Sassy could try the best of the best. Plus, if he made more cupcakes it would be an excuse to use frosting, lots of frosting. Sassy was too cute with icing on his cheek.

Sam

Fruit...or fruit flavors…every time Sam was sure Gabe couldn’t shock him more, he did. Did Gabe live on the moon before he got Sam? Surely he knew that a worthless slave like Sam didn’t deserve even a bite of these things, these cupcakes. No one bothers giving slaves such treats, especially not tasting like those did. One tasted like a strawberry, another like an apple. Had he not worked in the fields a few years ago, he might not even recognize some of the flavors. He did not have words for the chance to taste just a small bite of these cupcakes. When Gabe insisted that he finish the ones he liked the best, he had to fight to keep his smiling to a minimum. He wasn’t even forced to eat the chocolate-flavored one! That one reminded Sam of the time he was forced to eat bars of chocolate by a previous master. After getting beaten for making a mess, he was told that what he ate was a medicine meant to help with digestion. 

After Sam finished eating his truly grandiose dinner and dessert, his master Gabe suggested that he go to sleep for the night. Sam was happy that he would be in his own room tonight, and dared hope that this incomprehensible master would continue his pattern of leaving him alone that night as well.

Entering said room, Sam felt the shock of when he first saw the room return. He could not get over the enormity of where he was to stay. A bed for himself...a bedside table complete with a clock (though his master specifically stated that he should sleep as late as he wanted)...blankets fit for a master...a closet newly filled with clothes that would be too large for his master but a perfect fit for him...it was mind boggling. As he slowly and hesitantly got ready for bed, he could hear his master doing the same. He lay under the blankets, his subconscious unable to rest even though the day had gone far better than could have been reasonably expected. Part of him wondered, even hoped that his master would come in and demand payment for all of the kindness shown. At least then, the ground could stop feeling like it was going to fall loose any moment. Of more concern was the fact that he could hear his master in the other room. Did that mean that Gabe would be able to hear him should an attack hit? As time slowly passed, the numbers on the clock only changing after an eternity, Sam could hear through his open door the sounds of his master’s snores. For another night, it seemed Sam would have peace. Although it took over an hour, Sam slowly succumbed to the fatigue of his malnourished body after an exciting day. 

When Sam awakened, his heart was banging against his ribcage. In spite of having slept for three hours (according to the clock), his body felt more tired than ever and more sore than he had felt since arriving. The tell-tale feel of a bitten tongue confirmed his worst fear. An attack had happened in the night, though thankfully it appeared that he had not awoken his master. Pushing past his weakness, Sam got up to see if he could find a way to keep his master sleeping through future attacks. He decided to close the door and set his alarm so that he could open it before his master awakened. He also grabbed one of the blankets and pushed it into the crack underneath the door. He hoped that that would be enough. He knew that it was only the strange whim of his master that stayed his hand after the attack in the hall; if another attack awakened the master, it was certain that the good food and gentle treatment would disappear. 

Gabe

Gabe woke up suddenly when he heard Sasquatch moving around in his room. It sounded like quite the nightmare. Under normal circumstances, he would have gone to wake his new roommate up. He knew from experience, though, that being awakened from nightmares by a stranger could sometimes cause a humiliation worse than the dream itself. Such had happened to him plenty of times when he was going from couch to couch shortly after having left his grandparents’ estate. Besides that, Sasquatch deserved to have one room in the place that was just his. Gabe knew that he should not barge into that room unless it was an emergency. When he heard Sasquatch wake up and apparently close his door, he was relieved. He knew that there was still a chance of one of them waking up the other, but with the two doors closed, it was less likely that any nightmares of his own would awaken Sassy. Turning over to get a few more hours’ sleep, Gabe decided that as soon as possible he would ask Sasquatch to pose for him. That body was too good not to be drawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww... Poor boys! At least Sam got to try cupcakes though. Something just as delicious as cupcakes - Comments and Kudos :) Feed me! Feed me!


	5. Light...and Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe loves artistic expression. Sam enjoys the good food and how easy it is to obey. Their impressions on the final result, however, couldn't be more different.

Sam

When Sam awoke, the first thing he noticed was the sun’s rays shining on him. A few days of respite could not calm the terror that hit him once he realized that he was still lazing about in bed hours after dawn. Even knowing that the reaction was practically inevitable after having two attacks the previous day, he could not help but feel betrayed by his body yet again. His master’s mercy (no Sam was ordered to call him Gabe) could only last so long after all. As he forced himself out of the oh so soft surface of the bed, he could not contain a small groan from muscles held too tense from the night’s attack. At the same time, his stomach groaned when it smelt a delicious something wafting from the kitchen. Perhaps m-Gabe’s kindness would hold out and he’d still be permitted a small portion? Entering the kitchen, Sam wondered if the cause of yesterday’s mess could possibly be the whirlwind at the counter making delicious-looking patties full of strawberries and who knew what else. Rather than be angry at Sam for waking up late, Gabe seemed to be excited to make the grandiose meal fit for kings and masters. Somehow it only surprised Sam a little when he was told to sit and start eating.

Gabe

When Gabe’s alarm went off at 9:30, excitement and joy filled him. Now that Sassy was feeling better, he hoped to be able to get some homemade deliciousness in his stomach. He figured that if Sasquatch could handle cupcakes without throwing up, he ought to be able to handle pancakes. Pancakes with BERRIES! Sas seemed so happy with the fruit-flavoring in the cupcakes last night that surely he’d love strawberries in his pancakes… Ooooh, and bananas. They were a must. Maybe some blackberries too? Gabe’s mind became so full of ideas on what to put into his spectacular pancakes that his first batch had to be thrown away having more fruit than batter in them. Thankfully by the time Sasquatch entered, the second batch was well underway. Watching Sassy through the gleaming surface of the recently washed metal stove, he could see the question in his eyes. Was he really the cause of yesterday’s mess and today’s perfection? Gabe figured it wouldn’t take Sassy too long to figure out that Gabe did not like boring stuff. Pancakes from scratch he could do. Brand-name porridge or canned soup? BORRRING! Gabe found himself quietly chuckling at Sasquatch’s expression as he told him to sit down at the table. After breakfast, he was determined to bring Sasquatch into his studio. He was certain that he’d go insane if he couldn’t draw his adorable roommate soon. That face practically begged to be put to paper! 

Sam

How hard had his head been hit by that last master? Sam was really contemplating whether or not his interactions with Gabe were real or a figment of his imagination. The mere idea of a master with as few expectations as Gabe appeared to have made his head spin. The idea that Sam would have earned even a remote portion of this kindness without having to fight for every mercy was laughable. There was a reason that he had been separated from his brother after all. His brother was worth keeping - strong, hard-working, capable of doing anything necessary to keep them safe. Sam was a burden for masters and other slaves alike. And yet, somehow he was the one with Gabe as a master. Gabe whose only real order thus far had been to sit in this chair. According to the clock on the wall, fifty-five minutes had passed. Sam would be concerned except Gabe’s face had been joyous the entire time. For reasons completely unknown to Sam, Gabe considered him a perfect model to draw. Sam just wondered how much longer this would last. He could only stay in this position for so long. Still, if this was the cost for regular food, a warm place to stay, and gentle caresses when his position needed to change (as opposed to harsh pulling and slaps), Sam would put up with sitting there for hours more. 

Gabe

Never had Gabe worked so hard to create an accurate artistic representation of someone. Never had his hands and his pencil failed him so horribly. He would add a line here, a curve there and be satisfied. Then Gabe’s gaze would fall back onto Sasquatch, and the image would seem like a child’s. He finally called the drawing session to an end when the sun had traveled such that Sasquatch’s shadow covered him as well. Gabe sighed, saddened that he hadn’t managed to capture Sasquatch on paper, but Sas himself seemed amazed at what had been created. Gabe decided to put the picture in the hallway, its imperfect state a constant reminder of just how much further he had to go...if he wanted to someday be able to call Sasquatch friend.

Sam

That image was him. It had his eyes, his ears, even that tiny scar on his cheek. His head was tilted like it almost always was when he wasn’t staring at the ground. It was easy to see that it was him on that paper - except it wasn’t. Sam knew that he was not nearly as pure as the picture seemed to describe him. The light catching on his hair seemed to imply an innocence that could never describe him. The man on that paper, the man in that frame was a work of art - beautiful in ways that could never be used to describe him. Yes, a few cuts could be seen, cuts that were identical to ones on his own body. In the creature that Gabe had drawn however, they did not take away from the beauty. No, they simply made him look stronger. The imitation of him held a strength that Sam knew he only pretended to have. He was honored to be used as the model even while a part of him wanted to burn the drawing in the fireplace. Were he really the person depicted, his twin in all ways physical, he would not have attacks - or if he did, he would not be terrified of their being discovered by Gabe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And light shines into the chapter, complete with art and yummy pancakes. Do you like pancakes? Was Gabe too serious about his passion for art? I'm a little hesitant with this chapter. Lemme know what y'all think. - MAPMonstersArePerceptions (and Cybergirl614)


	6. Fun in the Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam makes Gabe a surprise breakfast. The two have fun baking tasty treats, and a secret comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a day late. To make up for it, Cybergirl614 (the author of this delightful chapter) wrote about three times the normal amount!

It was difficult for Sam to comprehend the turn his life had taken. It had been two weeks since he left the slave market and entered into this strange new world where a slave like him was permitted ample food, drink, warmth, comfort. In spite of the debt that grew with every meal, every night spent in comfort, Gabe still had not demanded anything from him. It was because of that debt, a debt that weighed more heavily on Sam's mind by the day, that Sam dared to break the easy routine that had formed in his new home. After that day in the studio, Sam's days had gained an easy balance. Each day, he woke up at 8:00. By 8:15, he had showered and was dressed for the day. This alone seemed quite some luxury to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a proper shower before Gabe bought him, save the last in a string of awful man who’d wanted a bedroom slave. That had been back when he’d been a bit younger, with fewer scars...not that those same bastards hadn’t been responsible for causing more than their share of his current scars. 

But now at Gabe’s, Sam was happy to have the luxuries he did. After showering and dressing, he waited in his room, letting time pass idly, until at some point between 8:30 and 9:00, he would hear the footsteps of Gabe coming out of his room. This was often accompanied by grumblings about the early hour as he made his way to the kitchen, half blind with sleep before his coffee. Delicious smells would inevitably follow Gabe’s sojourn to the kitchen, wafting into Sam’s room, followed shortly by Gabe's call to breakfast. The idea of breaking this morning ritual and leaving his room before permission was given should have terrified Sam, but somehow it didn’t. 

Something in the fact Sam owed him so grievously, or at least so Sam thought, made him want to do something to stay on Gabe’s good side. He didn’t entirely dread the idea, or the work, of doing something extra. Gabe obviously hated waking up early, judging by his gruff monologues to the walls of the hallway as he cursed the “early” hour. So, why not do something to take a bit of pressure off of Gabe? Sam could make breakfast himself, for once, and serve his master as even the most miserable slave worth his salt would do. 

So Sam went to work, cracking eggs into the skillet, stirring and flipping just so, hoping desperately Gabe liked them scrambled, because that appeared to be how they were going to come out. He poked around a bit in the fridge, and found bacon, which he put on the other burner. Finally, toast was put in as well. Sam was so intent on his work, he neglected to hear the footsteps coming up the hallway. 

It wasn’t until he startled at a voice behind him that he realized he wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Turning around, he saw Gabe, still wrapped up in his robe, yawning widely. 

“Oh Sassy, I didn’t know you cooked.” His voice was playful, eager. “Smells fucking delicious.”

Sam almost shrugged, almost, because it was satisfying and disarming to hear someone speak so warmly to him about something he’d done, but all at once he remembered Gabe, regardless of what he said, was his master. That was the whole point of this, Sam berated himself, to stay on Gabe’s good side. An improper reply to such a comment by a master wouldn’t do. 

“Oh, well, I uhm, thought I’d do something to please and serve you, mas--.” Sam bungled the words out. He’d been almost too caught up in the satisfaction, then in his own words, to remember the new protocols Gabe had proscribed. That simply wouldn’t do. He made a mental note to be more careful in the future not to risk getting caught up in his own feelings around his master.

Gabe made a little tsk noise, which might have normally meant little, but to Sam it induced a flinch reaction. The instinctive reaction owed to the woeful fact any dissatisfaction on the part of a master spelled certain trouble for a slave. But then, Sam remembered in the same split second, this was Gabe, and thus far, he didn’t seem to be a normal master. 

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” 

The verbal reproach, however mild the tone, sent Sam’s mind racing.

“No, I’m so sorry, ma--sir--Gabe, sir, I will be sure not to call you that ever again.” 

Sam hurried himself along, piling generous helpings of eggs, bacon and buttered toast onto Gabe’s plate. He placed it on the table before pulling out Gabe’s chair, which Gabe sat down in with a somewhat puzzled look. 

“Sasquatch--”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Gabe, you need something to drink,”. Sam fumbled for a glass and poured orange juice from the fridge. 

As he deposited the cup on the table beside Gabe’s plate, the other man spoke again.

“Sas?” There was a question in his voice too, now, and his hand brushing Sam’s shoulder, as if to slow him from turning away to go fidget at the counter as he was wont to do. 

“Yes, Gabe?” 

“You don’t have to putter around the kitchen like that. Eat with me.” 

“If it is your wish, sir.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You made a huge breakfast. Have some!” 

Sam shook himself momentarily, reminding himself he was here with Gabe, and despite his movement this morning toward a more typical slave role, that didn’t mean Gabe’s unorthodox rules had changed. Rules? If that was the right word. Gabe had the odd way of making sure Sam ate at the same times as he did, and the oddity of not wanting to be called master, the oddity of...well, lots of oddities, really. 

Sam nodded to his master’s prompting and grabbed a plate and flatware. He fixed himself a generous portion of eggs and bacon before taking a seat. The instinctive pangs of wariness about indulging in front of a master still rang in the back of his head, making him pause to look up at Gabe. It was habit, but he’d been doing this less and less, and worrying less than he ever had since, well, ever. Gabe didn’t seem to notice Sam pausing, so he jumped in and began to eat. Despite his relative dearth of skill in cooking elaborate foods of the sort someone like Gabe would probably like, he could do the basics pretty damn well, if you asked him. Or Gabe too, actually, given Gabe’s murmur of delight as he bit into a sandwich he’d made of egg, bacon and the buttered toast. Gabe groaned as he took another bite, and at first Sam felt pleasure. That was the goal of making breakfast after all - to pay back just a little of what Gabe gave him. But as Gabe kept making those, those sounds, Sam couldn’t help but feel uneasy. They seemed to cross the line between food pleasure and...another type of pleasure. They reminded him of things best forgotten. At the same time, he couldn’t help being angry at himself. They were just sounds goddamit! They were innocent sounds. They caused his face to burn, in shame, in something else? He wanted to leave the table, just do something. All he knew was that his appetite was suddenly gone, and all he could do was sit silently watching Gabe.

Finally, Gabe finished his sandwich, sighing contentedly. He looked up at Sam, who was staring at his plate, examining the remainder of his eggs with stonelike resolve.

“Uh, Sas?”

Sam looked up. “Yeah--uh, yes?”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, you were just uh, uhm...yumming a lot.” Color must have risen in Sam’s face, because Gabe mirrored Sam’s awkward expression for a second before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, well fuck!” 

And with that simple statement, the tension disappeared as if it had never existed. Then they were both laughing, and Gabe had gotten up to go slap Sam on the shoulder, which made him tense up for a moment. He hid it, kept laughing, and turned his flinch into a movement to get up and start clearing the table. 

“Well, now that I know you’re so good in the kitchen, I was thinking you could help me with some recipes I’ve been meaning to try this afternoon.” Gabe suggested as Sam scraped the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. 

Sam nodded absently, turning to see Gabe’s expectant one-sided grin.

“Sure, why not?” Sam shrugged. 

If the lukewarm response dispelled Gabe’s hope of an afternoon of cooking hijinks, he didn’t show it. “OK, great! You go do your thing. I’m gonna get together those recipes!”

Sam nodded, knowing that “go do your thing” was code for “go sit in your room”. He knew by now Gabe and him didn’t make enough dishes to merit washing until the evening, and some days they didn’t even bother running the washer until two days’ worth of dishes had been compiled. 

 

After he shut the door, he went and wandered over to the bed, lying back on it to relax. He could, and probably was getting used to this nice bed, this house. And Gabe. He couldn’t say he disliked it. To the contrary, although he didn’t so much care to admit to himself, he was beginning to feel something akin to gratitude. But that wasn’t what he was thinking of right now--he was wondering what sort of concoctions Gabe would come up with, and whether these might be pastries or cakes of some sort. God he’d love to have some more cakes… 

 

He must have drifted off, because the next thing he was aware of was a hand resting lightly on his shoulder, a voice in his ear. 

“Hey, Sassy, let’s get to baking.” 

Gabe. 

Sam’s eyes flew open and he shuffled about for a moment before sitting up. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, uh, Gabe I didn’t mean to fall asleep--”

“Why would I care if you took an after breakfast siesta? Sometimes I could do with one for myself!” He patted his belly and feigned a yawn. 

 

Sam sighed, alarm dissipating. “Yes, right. I’ll help you bake.”

 

And god, bake they did. 

Gabe, for some reason, hell only knows what, had decided to make not one or two, but a whopping three recipes at once. 

“Because what fun is one when you want to try them all?!” He’d quipped as he’d explained his plans to Sam, who’d only nodded. At least he wasn’t the one coordinating everything they were doing. That wouldn’t have turned out very well…

They’d been at it a couple hours, Sam juicing lemons and crushing crackers, melting butter, chopping fruit, and giving all these things to Gabe as he mixed them together in the correct proportions.

Some of the fruit was run through a food processor at high speed, whipped with cream and sugar, then deposited in the refrigerator to chill and congeal. 

Some of the mixture had spattered out of the bowl onto the counter in the process, Gabe had swiped some up with his finger and tasted it. Before his hand had left his mouth, he was clutching his chest, gasping dramatically, his face the picture of shock. 

“Holy shit, this is heaven! I swear!” 

He gave Sam a nudge, saying, “Go on, try some,” with a devilish grin. Sam did as he was bid, and was greeted by the flavor of the fresh berries that constituted the mixture.

“Good?”

“I’ll say,” Sam replied, nodding.  
Though cooking with Gabe was fun, at moments like the present, hectic was closer to the reality.

 

Gabe was looking in the oven, checking the pie crusts he’d put in to brown. Sam was at the sink washing some of the utensils they needed to use, when Gabe called to him.

“Hey, Sassy, read me the list again? I swear to god it called for something else in it--”

Sam looked over at the list posted on the refrigerator, pulling it down from its magnet where it perched, the letters leering at him. 

“Uhm…”

“Just, start reading like halfway down? I’ve got myself really confused.”

Silence filled the kitchen as Gabe fiddled with the items in the oven, seconds ticking away excruciatingly slow as Sam tried to determine what Gabe had already done, except, the problem was, he could barely remember what the letters meant.

E-g-g… He was pretty sure they hadn’t done that yet. He scanned down the page, looking for context, but gave up.

“So what do we do next?” 

“Uhm...eggs?”

“Yeah? Whites or yolks?”

Sam stared at the list hating himself, his own stupidity. Eggs… Take...ch...chilled, the word was chilled--grade A eggs, and make…. He struggled on the next words.

Gabe had finished getting the hot pie crusts out of the oven, and was headed over towards Sam now.

“Sassy? You OK?”

Sam nodded, although he knew he was putting on a piss-poor performance. He tried not to let his frustration through, but his damp palms and tight grip were making the paper crinkle in his hand, and he could feel the tremulous vibration of muscles wound too tight.

Gabe took the recipe from him gently, sighing. 

“Sas? I might not be the smartest, but I know you aren’t OK.” 

“I can’t, Gabe. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Gabe had tossed the recipe aside onto the counter now, and was pulling Sam towards a seat at the table. Although his pride might have made him protest another time, nothing in him was willing to put up the effort right now. 

They’d been having, well, fun. And he’d just had to ruin it…

\-------

Sam was visibly shaken, although by what Gabe wasn’t sure. 

“Jesus, do I have to squeeze it out of you? What’s wrong?” Though his words were potentially harsh, he said them softly, sitting down in a chair he’d pulled up close to Sassy’s.

Sas had hunched up in his seat, looking twenty kinds of miserable, and Gabe just couldn’t deal with it. The puppy look was all there, except it was a sad puppy look, and...well, he just looked pitiful. His inclination was to give Sassy a bear hug, because he couldn’t stand him looking so upset. But he wasn’t sure Sas would want to be hugged, at least by him. But he wanted to…

Gabe settled on throwing one arm around Sassy’s shoulders, squeezing gently. 

“It’s okay. Just, what’s got you all knotted up, huh?” 

“I can’t, sir. I can’t...read.” 

“What? Why didn’t you just tell me that?” Gabe scoffed.

“I’m sorry, sir. You had never asked, sir-m-sir.” 

“Sassy. One, why would I be mad? Two, enough with the sir’s,” then he added, more gently, “You know I’m just Gabe.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”  
“Ok. Better now?” Gabe asked. “Coz we’ll deal with this later. Right now...we have pies to finish!”

Sam laughed quietly, trying to shake it off. “Yeah. Pies.” 

Why was Gabe getting to him like this? He’d never cared what a master thought before and certainly not felt bad about letting them down. He’d only cared when they were awful, and even then, when he’d been dealing with them, he felt fear and anger, not...whatever this was. It was like he’d felt betrayed by his own stupidity, afraid of disappointing Gabe, afraid of losing everything he’d just found. What seemed even worse was that apparently, it was no big deal to Gabe. Somehow, in this version of the world, with Gabe, Sam’s reactions had become exaggerated over-reactions, and that made him feel far more absurd and humiliated than usual.

Sam began to cheer up when the pies were done. It was around four in the afternoon when Gabe told him to sit down at the table, and with great aplomb, cut them each a slice of the pies. 

He presented Sam a plate garnished with a little bit of some sort of herb, and a dollop of whipped cream. 

Sitting down across from Sam, he grinned saying, “Dig in.” 

Each of the pies had a different, distinct flavor. The tartness of the lemon filling...the sweetness of the powdered sugar dusted crust of the berry pie. It gave Sam a new idea of what baked things could be. The cupcakes had been amazing, of course, but this had more...texture. More chewing, too, he realized, as he bit into the thick pecan pie. 

As they ate, Gabe piped up. “So, would you want to, I dunno, start learning?”

“Uh, learning?” 

“Yeah. Y’know, to read?”

Sam paused, cursing the way his heart pounded at the suggestion, when clearly, it shouldn’t. He hated that this mattered to him. Hell, he hated a lot of things, but he loved the idea of a chance to learn.

“I’d...I’d really like that.” He kept his voice dry and even, although he ended up choking on a piece of crust that had stuck in the back of his throat. 

“Great,” Gabe said, smiling what was now an almost annoying trademark Gabe-grin. 

But Sam didn’t smile back. He felt a bit queasy, and it definitely wasn’t anything to do with the awesome pie. So far, here with Gabe had been the best place he’d been since the miserable events that led to his being enslaved. It had been good, being treated so well, fun, even. But the idea of someone investing something so personal in him was a bit much to bear, because it woke up hope of an ephemeral future. And hope for someone of his station was as dangerous as a loaded gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, we hunger for your kudos and comments. See you next week!


	7. Malevolent Mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabe like reading until Gabe gets a certain letter....

Life entered a new norm after the ‘Pie Incident’. For reasons inexplicable to Sam, Gabe took Sam’s lessons in reading very seriously. What should have been a very pleasant whim of the master, there and gone again as soon as it became inconvenient, seemed etched in stone. Each day, starting at 2:00pm, Gabe sat down with Sam and helped him to flourish in reading. Sam was perfectly content with this state of affairs; that did not make it any less strange to see a master stop mid-activity (be it in the kitchen or the studio) so as to help his slave. And with Gabe’s lack of orders, the only way Sam could repay the man was to work his hardest at what could be the most pleasant task he had ever been given. The chance at an education was not something to take lightly - especially for a slave as useless as Sam had been over the years. Sam knew that no other master would even contemplate teaching him. He had a history of rebellion and laziness that knew no end. Of course, his laziness was often a result of attacks that he could not control, and he rebelled because it went without saying that he could not succeed in being a halfway decent slave. Now that Sam thought about it, almost a month had passed since his last attack. He still put a blanket underneath the door to muffle sound during the night, but a part of him dared to hope that the attacks might continue to stay away in this paradise.

 

While Gabe had never thought of himself as a teacher, teaching Sasquatch was just plain fun. He had finally found an activity to do with Sassy that seemed to get the gorgeous man out of his shell. It was for that reason that Gabe took the time to teach him every day no matter what he was doing. He wanted Sas to trust him in this one thing if nothing else. Despite his happy-go-lucky manner, Gabe was not stupid. He knew that a part of Sasquatch still had difficulty trusting that meals would be consistent. He could see in the sometimes lingering gaze of Sasquatch that something about his room confused him. Gabe hoped that in time, Sassy would be able to take such things for granted. He hoped that by teaching Sassy each day at the same time, Sas would be able to see that the lessons in reading were more than just a whim of his. Besides that, Sasquatch was just plain fun to teach. He was so smart! It seemed impossible to Gabe just how quickly he learned. Gabe contemplated possibly looking into other parts of Sam’s education that may be lacking as he skimmed through his mail. 

Uh oh...his grandparents wanted him and his new slave to come for a ‘visit’. That was just what they needed!

Gabe postponed the visit as long as possible, and although he did not burden Sas with it, Sam was able to tell that something was wrong. Gabe seemed distracted. When Sam suggested an art or cooking idea, Gabe didn’t seem to delight in it nearly as much as was his norm. Sam could also faintly hear cries at night from his master that made his heart hurt. Sometimes, the screams would seem to be in the terror of a deep, heart wrenching sadness. Other times, the cries would seem to be filled with a deep seated anger. While Sam wanted to help, he was also afraid. Would such action make Gabe turn his anger onto Sam? Would it upset the balance? Perhaps seeing Sam in his bedroom would remind Gabe of Sam’s status; Sam’s position as a slave rarely, if ever, was brought up since Gabe asked that he be called by his name. No, while hearing Gabe cry out hurt Sam, the risk that his efforts to comfort Gabe would be taken wrong was just too great. As the stress grew, so too did the frequency of his own attacks until Sam found himself hiding in his room the majority of the day, just in case an attack hit. Sam fervently wished that Gabe would explain what was going on. At this rate, one of them was going to go crazy, and he wasn’t sure who it would be first.

\---------

“Gabe?” Sam asked hesitantly over breakfast one day.

“Hmm?” His master looked up from the pancakes they were eating, the circles under his eyes approaching the level of bruises in the crisp light that came in the kitchen window. Sam tried not to frown at how awful he looked. His typically upturned mouth had found the habit of forming itself into a grim line, and his typically amused eyes were apt to stare off vacantly more often now than Sam had ever seen. 

Gabe had yawned through making the pancakes, despite having downed a steaming cup of espresso, which he’d recently taken to doing in the mornings. That, and he’d looked so miserable even when cooking, almost as bad as other times, that Sam had finally decided to do something.

Or, y’know, say something. 

After Gabe had spoken, Sam paused, words that he’d come up with several times before sticking in his throat and vanishing from his mind like writing dusted from a chalkboard. 

“Sam?” 

“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve remembered, or what, but lately you haven’t been sleeping.” 

Gabe nodded, sighing as he lowered his head into his hands, shoving his plate away from him on the table. “Yeah.” He said miserably.

“And you’re screaming and talking at night. I guess, having nightmares?”  
Gabe didn’t really respond, just sighed.

“And you’ve seemed...really sad all the time. I’ve been wondering what’s wrong.”

He finished speaking, head beginning to pound, if only from habit, since asking personal stuff of a master was basically never a good idea.

“That, yeah. I guess I have been out of sorts. I, uhm, got a letter a couple weeks ago, from my grandparents. They...want me, us, I mean, to come by and visit.”

Sam would have imagined someone as wealthy as Gabe would have little reason to dread family visits, if anything due to the fact if Gabe, who apparently didn’t really work, was wealthy, that meant his grandparents were even richer. Food, seeing relatives? Sam normally wouldn’t have seen that anything would be worthy of the level of dread Gabe apparently harbored for this invitation. But as much as he knew of Gabe, he thought there had to be some kind of reason it had so dampened his master’s cheerful spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoyed it? Hated it? Let us know. Grandparents are coming up next!


	8. The Miniature Tornado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe worries as the visit impends, while Sam feels the juxtaposition for his position of privilege while struggling to remain unnoticed; a new friend is made.

Gabe was worried. He was terrified. Acknowledging the problem to Sasquatch helped in that he didn’t have to pretend to be perfectly fine (poorly at that), but it also meant he didn’t have to pretend. It was just so hard, goddamnit! Sas shouldn’t have to put up with his grandparents’ fucked up views. Sure, Gabe originally bought Sas simply to say fuck you to his relatives. He even named him with the intent to horrify them. It hurt so much to remember just how little he had cared back then. Everything he did that first week wasn’t for Sasquatch’s benefit; it was to rebel against his grandparents. Gabe did not dare hope that their tentative friendship (if interactions between master and slave could even be called that) would survive this visit. He just hoped that Sasquatch didn’t go back into the shell he was in before. Even if he started taking his meals in his room and avoided Gabe like the plague, Gabe didn’t think he could survive without hearing the occasional muffled laugh when Sam read. Sam did not know it, but he brought a brightness into Gabe’s life that had been missing for far too long. 

During the ride to Gabe’s grandparents, Sam could not help but hide a hidden smile. Only Gabe would worry about a slave’s opinion. Gabe had warned him that his grandparents were not like him. Sam was surprised that Gabe thought the warning necessary. Gabe was one of a kind. He seemed worried that Sam would be upset from meeting them. What he did not know was that, however horrible they were, Sam wanted to meet them. In the days leading up to this trip, Gabe had let slip that they were the entire reason that he got a slave. It did not matter how they treated him. It did not matter if his stomach, now used to regular meals, had to go without for the few days that they would stay. They could be as bad as his worst memories combined. He would still leave knowing that he owed them a debt. Without them, he would not know Gabe and the happiness that could exist in his new home. There was another voice, a voice that he tried to stifle, that said he could trust Gabe to not let this be more horrible than it had to be. Gabe apparently believed that it would be bad, but he felt bad that Sam would experience it. Sam did not think that he would let it be worse than need be to keep his grandparents from causing them more grief.

\--------  
Invisible. Sam was as invisible as the wind until tomorrow’s luncheon. Immediately upon arrival, Sam was whisked away to the slaves’ quarters. The master and mistress had no interest in seeing him yet, therefore he would not be seen. Sam had not felt embarrassment over his nakedness in many years as a slave. It seemed strange that clothing would bring that feeling back. Being the only slave fully clothed, however, brought it back in spades. Sam remembered seeing favored slaves in his previous households. He remembered holding them in disdain, hating them not because of envy but because they were pets - slaves that cared only for the master’s happiness, who had ceased fighting even in their own minds. They were the ones who would do anything to keep their privileged position, even tell on other slaves. Sam hated knowing that the others in this room would look at his clothed body, the glow of his cheeks caused by regular meals (even if he had not gained much weight yet), and see him as a pet. 

Minutes, hours, days? Who knew how long he had spent in the corner doing nothing but holding his knees, curled into a ball? Suddenly, a voice snapped Sam out of his trance. “Well hey there good lookin! You must be Master Gabriel’s new slave. The Master and Mistress’ve been talking about this visit for weeks. Ol’ Master Gabe’s a good one. Whatcha go by anyway? My number’s 62879, but call me Charlie if you know what’s good for ya!” There, the whirlwind apparently called Charlie winked at Sam. Frankly, he was just slightly freaked out by the little thing. She was even smaller than Gabe! “Um I go by Five-oh, but Master Gabe has named me S-Sasquatch. Don’t get me wrong, but why are you talking to me? I just figured that….” Sam trailed off. He just couldn’t call himself a pet, even as he started to look at his life with Gabe and wondered if that wasn’t what he was. 

“Haha! You figured that since you were better dressed than us, we’d want nothing to do with you? Sorry. No can do. Anyone who’s been here more than, oh, seven years knows at least a little of what Master Gabe’s like. I’ve never seen a master with his independent streak. I bet most of the guys here have gotten more than a few stripes because he insisted on doing alone what we were supposed to help him with. On that same note, Master Gabe’s also been one of the only ones to not try to take advantage or hurt us because he could. We all figured his new slave would be living a different life than what’s common here. I’m just glad to see he’s not changed since he left this place. Yep, Master Gabe’s a good one. Follow me and I’ll introduce you to the “cool crew!”

Sam could hardly keep up with Charlie’s energy. He definitely knew he wouldn’t remember who everyone was. He had no idea that a mansion required this many slaves to run. He did make a mental note, however, to try to talk to a few of the people. A woman and her daughter were apparently in charge of the kitchen. Maybe before or after he met Gabe’s grandparents, she could give him some ideas on meals that would appeal to Gabe’s taste. One of the men had not been here long but had mentioned working for some years at Novac Industries before coming here. The chances were slim to none, but maybe in his time working there he’d run into Dean? Sam did not know if he wanted to know how his brother was doing or not, but the idea of leaving without even asking...he knew he would regret it forever. Alas, the woman and her daughter had left to make supper for the Masters and Mistress, and the man had left to do some chore or another. There was nothing to do but wait. Sam knew that while some of the slaves had treated him better than expected, they would likely be hesitant with him helping. If he made a mistake, it would be on their heads. Sam went back to his corner and took a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! --written by MAPMonsters_Are_Perceptions, posted by Cybergirl614


	9. Awkward Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a few conversations...first he sounds like a pet, then he bawls his eyes out. At least he learned what walnut salad is!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone for the wait! RL seems to like getting in the way. We're still aiming for weekly updates, but please don't kill us if we miss a week. - MAPMonstersArePerceptions and Cybergirl614

When Sam awoke, it was much later, after dark, actually. Someone had come over to him, a blond girl, he thought, as he rubbed his eyes. 

“Hey. Who’re you? The new guy?” She offered him a hand up. It was only once he was standing that he realized how much smaller than him she really was.

“Uhm, yeah. Master Gabriel’s.” 

“Oh, come on. I’m pretty sure Gabe doesn’t care if you talk about him without all the Master-this master-that. I mean, I don’t really know him personally, but from the way the house slaves talk, and word does get around, he doesn’t care for that.”

“Yeah. I dunno, just, figured I can’t be too careful since I don’t know who’s listening. No offense…”

“Jo. And you’d be?”

“Five-oh.” 

“Just numbers?”

“It’s what I go by.” Sam shrugged.

“Hm. No name?”

“It...doesn’t really matter where we are, does it? What someone called us before? I just like Five-oh. He was...important.”

“He--who, your namesake?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, anyway, if you come out to the gathering area, there’s food from the kitchen.”

“Oh. Great.” Sam smiled at the thought of something to eat. He hated to admit it, but he’d been getting used to the regular meals, and noticed a lot more than usual now, when he felt hungry. 

 

He could immediately tell that the meal was a mix of leftover stew from the master’s table and the bland crackers often fed to slaves in workshops or plantations. The crackers were considered the go-to meal for places with lots of slaves because no time was needed to either make or eat them. Alone, the crackers had next to no taste and were barely capable of allowing subsistence. From the somewhat gaunt faces of many of the slaves milling around the pot, Sam guessed that the crackers were ordinary while the stew was the exception.

 

“Heya Five-oh,” Charlie chimed from behind him.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, since we got stew tonight! Ellen always knows how to brighten up a long day.” 

“Ellen?” 

“Yeah, she works the kitchen, with her daughter Jo?”

“Oh, Jo. I just met her. Well, her mother and her are good cooks.”

Charlie grinned and pronounced her agreement. 

Sam laughed with Charlie, though glancing up, he saw a blond woman approaching him, who looked similar to Jo. 

“So you like my cookin’?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Oh come on. You aren’t going to be acting like that out here, are you? City boy?” She had a harsh tone for a moment, then cracked a smile. “Name’s Ellen.”

“Five-oh.”

“Hm, I’ve never had much for numbers. Had to name myself, so I guess I’ve always felt like among us, it oughta be names instead. God knows to all of them we’re just numbers.”

Sam nodded absently, trying not to foul up the situation with what would surely be awkward admissions of the fact he was so favored by his master. 

“Oh, you know Gabe’s not like that, Ellen,” Charlie scolded. 

“Now, that’s true, but we don’t see him around here anymore. Not since he moved to town.”

Eager to get the conversation away from all this, Sam blurted, “So, you work the kitchen, right?”

“Sure do.”

“Is there anything Gabe likes to eat that you know of?” 

The pause that followed gave Sam more than enough time to realize his latest question was not going to clear the air of any of the favoritism tensions that he feared. He was ready to kick himself by the time Ellen replied. He sounded like a fucking pet, for Christ’s sake!

“Well, come to think of it, Gabe always liked walnut salad.”

It took Sam a moment to understand what she’d said, and even then he parroted it back blankly. “Walnut salad?”

“Well, it’s somethin’ I brought with me from down South, where I grew up working. It’s apples and peaches cut up real fine and chilled with sugar sprinkled on ‘em, and walnuts and pecans stewed in a sugar and molasses mixture for most of a day, but be careful they’re not burned. That’ll burn real easily. Get the nuts out and put them in the fruit, and serve it while the nuts are still warm.”

“Hmm, I’ve never thought of eating stuff like that.” 

“Well, you learn a few things cooking for masters on plantations like this.” Ellen sighed. “Do you even know what all those things are?” 

Sam tried not to turn red as he shrugged his answer to the negative.

“Well, if you ask Gabe, I’m pretty sure he’ll be happy to teach you. The last I’d heard, while he was living here, he had his parents in fits, since he insisted on doing all sorts of baking and cooking himself. I don’t think he’d mind teaching you.”

After that, he followed Charlie around, more or less and ended up talking to several different people. As it got later, people started going to their bunks, and Ellen pointed him towards a room. 

“I guess you’ll share this one with Garth. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite. Usually.” She winked, and Sam laughed, turning to see a fairly gaunt guy in the doorway. 

“Hey, so you’re staying in my room.”

“I guess so.”

“Well, since Ellen says, better do it.” He laughed in a very strange way that made Sam wonder if he thought he was part donkey. 

“You can take that bed,” Gart pointed to a mat on one side of the tiny room. “And I have an extra blanket, so…” 

He shuffled around over his own pallet for a moment, before tossing Sam a rough woven blanket. 

“Thanks.” 

“Y’know,” Garth mused aloud a few minutes after they’d both settled in their beds for the night, “This used to be an old office for the family industry. ‘S why there are rooms.” 

 

“Family industry, like what, Novac industries?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, the Novacs have quite a few farms and such. Factories too…” Garth yawned.

“It’s been a few owners, but I used to worked at one, and..” he swallowed hard. “I think my brother got sent to another one when...we got separated.”

“Your brother? I’ve been around on most of their plantations. What’s his name?”

 

Sam paused, the word sticking in his throat like it was barbed and attached to his tongue. He bit back the fear that hit, and that forbiddenness, of telling anyone his real name. That last thing he kept as his, let alone his brother’s. 

“Dean.”

“Hmm. I think I remember a guy with that name.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s heart pounded in his head.

“Yeah, I sure did. He was a sad fella, almost never talked at first, but y’know once he got talking, he was some kinda funny. Not like there’s a lot to be laughing about out in the fields, but… He still managed it.”

 

Sam rolled off the lumpy mat into a sitting position, as if ready to jump up and shake more information out of Garth.

“And? Wh-what did he look like?”

“Brown hair, bright green eyes… Taller than me, shorter than you?”

“Did he say anything else about himself? About...me?”

“He went on about a Sammy a couple times, talking in his sleep once that made the night overseer half mad. Then, I guess though, if you’re his brother…. You’re Sammy?”

 

“Yeah.” He choked out the word, feeling hot streaks down his face, that he didn’t even bother to try to quell. Nobody could see in the darkness. And who here would blame him?

 

“Well that’s pretty damn amazing. ‘S been god, three, four...five? Years since I saw him. I wish I could get in touch with him and tell him I found you! The little brother he occasionally got on about...”

 

Sam couldn’t be bothered to reply. He was already occupied stifling sobs with the blanket pressed to his face, curling up in a ball, as much out of overwhelming emotion as the cold of the mat, because god knew, whenever and wherever Dean was last seen, he’d made it that far. And that was infinitely more than Sam had known, or even really hoped, in a long time. Sam knew that he should try to listen to Garth...learn everything he could about the man his brother grew into. Chances were, he’d not get this chance again. Everything was just too much though. 

He didn’t realize that Garth had stopped talking until the man moved to sit by him and put a hand on his shoulder. Minutes, days after Sam moved from soaking his blanket to soaking Garth’s shirt, he finally calmed down enough to listen. When Sam finally went to sleep, it was with the knowledge that, if no one else, his brother still knew his name and cared about him...regardless of distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks in advance for any comments/kudos! This story is awesome to write and feedback from y'all makes it even better!


	10. A Mistake and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go surprisingly well until they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam experiences physical and mental torment in this chapter.

Ice gripped Gabe’s heart as he tried to get away from that accursed mansion as fast as possible. How could his grandfather do this? As he looked at a barely conscious Sasquatch wearing only Gabe’s jacket and moaning softly against the window, he knew that the bigger question was how grossly he had been played for a fool. Why did an innocent have to suffer for his choices again? He was supposed to protect Sas. As he stared into the emptiness of the dark highway, his mind went back to the relatively pleasant meal that caused him to make his worst mistake in years….

The luncheon had actually gone fairly well. Sasquatch had to kneel beside his chair, but besides a raised eyebrow at the slave’s name, nothing was said about Sassy or his treatment of him. Of course, Gabe made a point to behave at least somewhat according to his grandparents’ expectations. Besides handfeeding Sas morsels from his plate here and there, Gabe more or less ignored that Sassy was even there. During the conversation, in which Grandmother once again tried to convince him that art simply wasn’t an appropriate vocation for someone of their breeding, Gabe made sure to mention how helpful and well-trained Sasquatch was. Most of it was pure shit of course, either behaviors that Gabe had been trying to convince Sasquatch NOT to do or things that the grandparents would _love_ that were utterly sickening. Gabe was sure that sending those mixed signals to Sasquatch was his first mistake. His second was capitulating to Grandmother’s request to stay another night. Hell, he should’ve known when his grandparents shared a look and complimented him that something was up. They were master manipulators. They probably sniffed out his insincerity two minutes after he sat down. It wasn’t until late that night that Gabe realized the consequences of his choices.

While Gabe was driving, Sam’s mind was also flashing back to images of the day before. Throughout the luncheon, Sam had had to suppress smiles. While Gabe’s words were disconcerting, his body language was reassuring. Being a slave had its advantages, and Sam could spot the lies a mile away. He noticed that as Gabe talked, his hands were often in motion. Whether he was petting Sam’s head, covering his mouth for a distinctly fake-sounding sneeze, or just messing with the napkin in his lap, Gabe’s hands were kept in motion. Similarly, each time Sam raised his head to take a bite from Gabe’s hand, he noted that Gabe appeared to be very interested in a vase behind his grandparents’ head. 

For a while, Sam found himself worried that his master’s grandparents would call Gabe out on the lies. Instead, everything looked like it was going very smoothly indeed. It looked like Gabe had worried needlessly over the visit after all. Gabe was just hinting on needing to go back home, some extravaganza or other where his art would be shown, when his grandmother convinced him that one more night wouldn’t hurt anything. Sam had mentally sighed. Yeah he wanted to go back to the easy routine of life in Gabe’s loft, but one more night wouldn’t kill him. Later, Sam could only wish that he were wrong….

Sam had barely started eating his small portion of crackers, when another slave was sent to bring him upstairs. He had figured that Gabe had simply changed his mind. Perhaps on the way home, they could stop for some fast food. Instead, he was led to the office of Gabe’s grandfather. Inside were Gabe’s grandparents - no Gabe in sight. The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck rose even as he bowed to them as was proper.   
\----  
Sam remembered being taken outside. He remembered the man demanding that Sam refer to him as Master. He was told that the real reason for the visit was because Gabe was sick of how weak his slave was. ‘Master’ would train him up properly before he left. If need be, Gabe would leave him and come back in a month or two, so if Sassy Sasquatch didn’t want to be stuck in this shack for a while, he’d better listen and follow Master’s directions.

Sam remembered having his clothes torn away from his body. He was being tied up, unable to move. Disgusted by scars from prior owners, Master decided that a whipping was the first step in retraining. Five lashes, ten, twenty. Sam was required to count them all and then ask for another. At one point, he took too long to respond. As a result, the count started back at one with Sam having no idea how high the number had to go.

Sam remembered being hosed down. The sting of the water was agony. Sam remembered being told to stand at attention. Master told him to not move. Hours passed. Every time he moved, Master simply counted. Finally, his bladder forced him to beg for permission to go. Master made him exercise for the privilege - jumping jacks, toe touches, push-ups, sit-ups each dozens upon dozens. When he could not hold all of it in, he had to scrub the floor clean with the remains of his shirt. 

Sam remembered. As he was made to suffer in the shack, he remembered. This was what Gabe wanted. _A past master came into his vision, demanding that he work through the night to meet the day’s quota._ This was Gabe’s plan after all. _Masters from before came and circled. Just take your punishment like a good bitch. Keep whining. It won’t do you any good._ If he had only been better, this punishment wouldn’t be necessary. 

By the time Gabe came home from visiting the local night club, hours had gone by. He asked Grandmother where Grandfather was and discovered him in the old shack out back. Sam, by this point was delirious from the pain, and Grandfather was holding a branding iron - the mark already on Sam’s skin. Neither Gabe nor Sam really remembered what happened after that. Grandfather held the view that Gabe really needed to learn to share his toys better. Grandmother was somewhat miffed that Gabe’s response to their efforts to help train the slave was to trounce out without a word. Really, how rude!

Gabe sighed as they finally reached city limits just as the sun was beginning to rise. He didn’t know what to do, but at least they were almost home.


	11. Pictures of a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe hears a song. Sam makes a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is Monster by Imagine Dragons

He’s a zombie. Sasquatch. Every interaction we’ve had, he’s had a fire. A beautiful flame that would not go out. Before I knew anything about him, I was drawn like a moth to that flame. And I am the one who put it out. Why? Why did I listen to that woman? Why did I go out and leave him to that man’s nonexistent mercies? I knew something would happen. 

Distantly, Gabe heard one of his favorite songs play on the radio in the silent car. Never had the lyrics seemed so personal. 

_Ever since I could remember,_  
Everything inside of me,  
Just wanted to fit in (oh, oh, oh, oh)  
I was never one for pretenders,  
Everything I tried to be,  
Just wouldn't settle in (oh, oh, oh, oh) 

For so many years, he had sought his grandparents’ approval with everything he was. It was never enough. When he finally stopped pretending to be something he wasn’t, the problem became finding others like him to fill the void his uncaring family had left. 

_If I told you what I was,_  
Would you turn your back on me?  
And if I seem dangerous,  
Would you be scared?  
I get the feeling just because  
Everything I touch isn't dark enough  
That this problem lies in me 

He never had told Sasquatch, had he? He had buried his guilt over Cas’ death...let it fester...let it rot. Maybe that was why he left tonight. Maybe he wanted the reminder of his brother to be punished. For all that he tried to be different from his family, Gabe knew that he was just as poisonous. Tonight was proof enough.

_I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,_  
I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me.  
A monster, a monster,  
I've turned into a monster,  
A monster, a monster,  
And it keeps getting stronger. 

Only a monster could destroy someone as beautiful as Sasquatch. Would Sassy ever really come back from this? Seeing the blank stare as Gabe tried to help Sasquatch into the loft, Gabe felt terror, though a small part of him would not give up yet. The idea was too terrible. 

\--------------

Fifteen minutes later, Sasquatch still had not said a word and continued to stare blankly while Gabe fought not to flinch as he cleaned Sasquatch. He had entered the bathroom caked in sweat, piss on his thighs, dozens of whip marks all over his body.   
The sun was just beginning to rise by the time Gabe was getting Sasquatch into bed. Gabe had long given up hearing Sasquatch’s voice. Even yelling would be better than the silence. He was just walking to the door when he heard a whispered question. 

“Did you ask him to punish me?”

It was probably a bad idea to yell at a traumatized Sas, but Gabe just couldn’t respond in any other way.

“Of course not! I never wanted you to be hurt! Sassy, please! You have to--to trust that,” Though Sasquatch quietly responded in the affirmative, Gabe went to bed with a heavy heart. 

\--------------

In spite of the ache of his body, a smile lit Sam’s face as he started to fall asleep. Knowing that the punishment was not organized by Gabe was… Well, he realized that for the last few months, beautiful though they were, a part of him had been unable to trust, to believe that this could be real. Ironically, seeing Gabe rage at his family _-his flesh-and-blood-_ for hurting _him_ , it made this fantasy life seem more true. Truthfully, at the luncheon he had somewhat expected a punishment. It was the timing that messed with his head, that and while he was healthier than he had ever been, his ability to withstand such punishment had been greatly lowered by living with Gabe. 

Sam knew that he should have taken care of himself when they got back. His behavior was completely unacceptable. He did not quite know why he didn’t. Maybe a part of him just wanted to feel a touch not meant to harm, to test the waters and see if things would stay as they were before the trip. Maybe he was just too busy trying to get the courage to ask that oh so important question, “Did you ask him to punish me?”. Sure, every fiber of Sam wanted to believe that the night wasn’t just a sick mind game, but without confirmation from Gabe (and what a confirmation it was to see Gabe shake and scream with emotion like that!) it was impossible to quiet the little voice of uncertainty. 

Sam knew that he would always be at risk of being sent back to the traders. That was a fact of life with the attacks. Knowing that he was safe, truly safe outside of that though… it was as if an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a weight he had not realized was there. With that knowledge, came the wish to repay Gabe. A plan began to form as Sam’s body became heavy with sleep.

\-------------

The next few days were...awkward. Gabe kept tiptoeing around Sasquatch, saddened that he had lost the man’s trust, willing to do anything to regain it. He made a point of making all of Sassy’s favorites for the meals but did not push interactions. They still got together for reading lessons, but Sasquatch spent most of his time closed away in his room. It wasn’t until two weeks had passed that Gabe discovered what Sasquatch was doing in his room. 

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes one morning, Gabe saw a few pieces of paper on the table. On the first, in big letters, it said, 

_**“Thanke yew, Gabe fore giving mee a home!”**_ )

On the second paper was an assortment of pictures. All took place in a different room. All were of Gabe doing something - cooking, drawing, reading, laughing -it was as if Sas was saying that Gabe _was_ his home. Gabe’s heart stopped. Could it be that Sassy had really forgiven him for what happened? He just barely managed to suppress a jump when he heard Sas enter the room.

“I’m sorry the drawing isn’t very good, and I misspelled a lot of the words. After we got...got back I just wanted to thank you and all for all you’ve given me. It means a lot, and I do appreciate it. This place, you, are the best thing I’ve had in a long, long time.”

Gabe could not stop himself. With tears in his eyes (though he would deny that later), he turned and hugged the friend he thought he’d lost to his grandparents’ malicious acts. Feeling hesitant hands softly return the gesture was the greatest gift in the world.


	12. Life is a Series of Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe has a nightmare. For Sam, real life becomes the nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait guys! Real life getting in the way sucks.

Friends...family...every morning when Gabe awoke, he turned to look at the now framed picture given to him by Sasquatch. Each time, his heart filled with certainty that at least some of his feelings towards the man were returned. Sas may never look at him as anything more than a friend, but at least Sasquatch was not being held here completely against his will. At least Sasquatch saw this place, saw Gabriel himself, as a legitimate home…. 

Gabe sat up suddenly in his bed. Something was wrong. His home was filled with pain. He had to find it. He had to try to comfort him. Damn it! The blankets were all knotted around him. Fighting to break free, the need to help only got stronger. The other bedroom had never seemed so far away before. Minutes seemed to take days to get there. The horrid door was stuck. He could hear whimpers just inside. Shoving it open, he immediately knelt next to the form on the floor and grabbed him into a comforting hug. “Hush now. Don’t worry, it’s just a little puke. It’ll wash right out. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’ve gotcha.”

Gabe sat up suddenly in his bed, the image of Cas far too real. His heart ached knowing that in real life, he had not been nearly as understanding or kind. Blindly, he stumbled towards the kitchen. He wanted alcohol. He knew no amount of alcohol would help. Hot chocolate stilled the shivers though. Passing through the hallway, he heard a faint noise. Damn it. Normally, he’d give Sasquatch the privacy to sort through his nightmares alone. Tonight? Tonight the phantoms of the past were too strong. 

The first thing he noticed was that the door was jammed. Gabe could only hope that he was truly awake this time. He heard a strange bark of laughter. Maybe Sas was already awake and everything was fine? “Sas? Sasquatch? Are you awake? Everything okay?” Instead of a response, Gabe just heard a thump. Shoving the door open, Gabe was certain that he was still trapped in his dreams. Sasquatch was having an attack on the floor, just like the attacks that had plagued his brother. His heart stopped. Five minutes later, the attack had ended, and Gabe had no idea how he had gotten on the floor next to Sasquatch. Sas was still out of it; if Gabe did not remember this from his brother’s attacks, he was certain that he would be terrified by the lack of response. 

Gabe had no idea how much time passed before Sasquatch came to. Minutes...days, it felt like forever before Sasquatch's eyes opened and looked at him with recognition. Just as he opened his mouth to suggest getting back in the bed, Sassy's beautiful eyes filled with tears. Words came out almost too quickly to be understood, and what could be pieced together was heartbreaking. 

Sam could feel the new bruise on his hip. His tongue felt like it had gone through a shredder. He just hoped that he could talk semi-decently at breakfast. Finally getting his energy up enough to open his eyes and move to his bed, Sam saw what had become the object of his dreams within the setting of his worst nightmares. Gabe, Gabe was in here! His time in paradise had come to an end, and it hurt worse than the worst beating or attack. He could feel his eyes tearing up despite every attempt on his part to stop them. Gabe pulled him close, and it ached to know that whatever this was, it surely could not be the comfort his heart begged for. 

Any moment, Gabe would push him away like the thing he was. Master would mock him for his weakness, proclaim that such unnaturalness was not worthy of his house. Master would punish him as was right for pretending to belong here in his house full of privilege. Then he would drag him back to the traders. As Sam's mind tormented him with everything that was about to happen, his fingers unknowingly clinched onto Gabe's robe. His mouth opened unknowingly, begging to be kept, begging to not be thrown away like the trash he was. He begged to stay in this, the first place to show him kindness in too long even if the kindness had to end. Gabe had become his home, and leaving that was too terrible to contemplate. 

Eventually, the panic attack came to an end as Sam's limited energy left his body. He faintly realized that he still had not been shoved off of Gabe's lap before his eyes closed, his last words,“Don't leave me.” 

When he next awoke, he was in his bed with Gabe by his side. Gabe said quietly.

“My brother had attacks – attacks like yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and Review! It makes our hearts happy.


	13. Remembering Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Sam's attack, emotions run high; trust begins to be built, and memories come to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the horrible wait! This chapter is largely a continuation of the last chapter, so I highly suggest rereading it before jumping into this.

When Sam’s eyes opened, he was alone but could hear Gabe in the kitchen. This was the first time in his memory that he had not been forced to ignore the pain and fatigue caused by the attacks. It hardly felt real. For years, he had assumed that the attacks were some sort of punishment for being a burden to those around him. He had never even contemplated that others experienced them; the idea that a freeman as good and as perfect as Gabe’s baby brother having them seemed horribly wrong. Sam remembered the agony in Gabe’s voice as he talked of him, of his little brother Cas, when the sun was just beginning to wake up. He didn’t go into details, but the love he felt was obvious. He remembered trying to provide the man comfort. Any pretense of master and slave, slim as it may have been, evaporated in those early morning hours. Sam knew that Gabe truly cared for him as a friend, and Sam realized that likewise he cared for Gabe in a way that was far more than just a master. As Sam’s mind mused over the morning thus far and the conversations yet to come (supposing Gabe could comprehend his speech with his tongue as it was), one thing bothered him. Gabe, once the figurative dam had loosened, was willing to give Sam that taste of his past. Sam felt a siren’s call to do the same. Not all of it...but it would be so amazing to hear his name from the lips of someone who actually cared for him. He wanted to trust that neither the knowledge, nor the word (simple though it may be) would be defiled by cruelty. Hearing Gabe’s steps and smelling lunch on its way, Sam filed away the thought for later.

“Hey Sas, you awake?” Gabe asked quietly as he entered the room. Bright eyes greeted him, not a trace of fear in sight.

“I made pizza for lunch; I donno if you’ve had it before, but Cas always said it was easy on his tongue after an attack. I also got some mouthwash for afterwards. I read it helps to heal the sores.”

The verbal response couldn’t exactly be called English per se, but Sas seemed generally amenable to the idea of lunch. It took the two of them a few minutes to figure out exactly how it was supposed to be possible to eat pizza comfortably with a messed up tongue (apparently you had to fold it, so the sauce didn’t touch the sore spots), but they got it in the end. The mouthwash was much easier to mess with, and if everything went right, the bottle claimed to heal sores in 24 hours or less. To avoid awkward and physically painful conversation, Gabe picked up the chapter book that they had started a week before and offered to read some of it to Sasquatch. He hadn't even finished the chapter before he could hear soft snores at his side. 

\------------  
The next day, it seemed, was to be filled with memories of the past. Sas quietly requested more stories from Gabe’s childhood. Though thinking back hurt, it was healing to remember that there were good experiences from before he’d become the unequivocal black sheep of the Novack family. Sam was excellent at listening, though how much of that was actual interest and how much was caused by his tongue was unknown. While today his words actually made sense, it was obvious to see that the mouthwash did not take away all of the pain. Gabe had just finished recounting Anna’s “The name is Princess Anna Danielle” phase (complete with all the pomp and exaggeration of a five-year-old who simply will not accept anything else but perfection), when Sas spoke for the first time since the stories began. 

“Hey Gabe? Do you remember when you first got me - when you named me Sasquatch ‘cause I’d only give you my number?” Sam winced as his teeth brushed a sore spot on his tongue, but after swallowing, managed to continue, if with a bit of a lisp. “Uh, well your choice was actually kinda close to my name. My real name I mean. Before I was just a number, my brother’d call me Sammy. Do you think you could, uh, maybe start calling me Sam? I just...sorry. Let’s just forget about it.”

Forget about it? Gabe could barely speak over the revelation given but hastily responded in an attempt to acknowledge the gift he was just given. “Wha-? Sas, I mean Sam, no. I... thanks for telling me. Thank you for trusting me with it. You don’t know what it means…. You don’t have to, of course, but if you’d like maybe you could tell me some stories about Sam before he became a giant? If you want, you could tell me about your brother? He seems to bring happy memories for you.”

“Brother? Who told you about my brother?” A flare of adrenaline came with the sudden rush of words. “D-did you speak to Garth before we left your grandparents’ place?” Sam was shocked that Gabe knew about Dean. He had never thought that Garth would share something so private with anyone, let alone a master! 

“Who’s Garth? Sam? It’s OK. When you told me your name, you said your brother called you Sammy. If you don’t want to share anything, you don’t have to. I won’t bring him up again with you.”

As the panic dispelled, Sam felt like he had backed himself into a corner. He didn’t really want to talk about Dean...at least he didn’t think he did. For years, memories of Dean were to be cherished like the finest diamond, locked away for access in times of need. He didn’t bring them to light often for fear that they would lose their shine. All of that being said, he wanted Gabe to know Dean, if only through his memories. It was truly odd considering sharing the other scant, precious memories of the few people who were important to Sam, but...but Gabe was important too. He was the first one to care a damn about Sam in...too long. Letting out a cleansing sigh, Sam began. 

Hours passed before the two fell silent from telling stories to each other. Possibly because Sam was sharing about his lost brother, Gabe’s stories all seemed to feature Cas. Sam went to bed feeling rejuvenated. It felt as though he had regained Dean in some small way. It felt good to be able to talk about his protective, older brother, and Gabe promised to try to draw a picture of Dean based on Sam’s descriptions the next day. Gabe found himself nearly overwhelmed. He had seen a side of Sam that he never knew existed. Both men found comfort in the other. Sam carried the burden of believing that his separation from Dean was his own fault. Gabe carried the guilt of knowing that Cas died because he left. As Gabe went to bed, he made a decision. He couldn’t get Cas back, but he would do anything possible to return Dean to Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, guys! Cybergirl614 and I have basic plans for the next few chapters, so hopefully we don't make you wait so long again.
> 
> AN2 The pizza scene is based on personal experience. It doesn't make sense, but it is really one of the easiest foods in my experience to eat post-seizure.


	14. Nightmares and Daydreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking place right after received the summons from his grandparents, Gabe goes on a night out to clear his head. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait...This chapter takes place shortly after the letter arrived from Gabe's grandparents.

Gabe sighed. Two days ago, he had received the summons from his grandparents. He needed to just...get away. It had been a while since he visited Alzafellas...it was always easy to forget the world there....

“Hey, Sas?”

Sasquatch looked up with his eyes still shining from the excitement of a fruitful reading lesson. Thankfully, Sas was at the point now where Gabe could leave him alone without fearing that his slave/roommate/possible friend? would go into a cleaning frenzy or some such nonsense. 

“Yes, Gabe?”

“I’m gonna go out tonight. Have whatever you want for dinner and then, I don't know, just hang out. I'll probably be back pretty late, but I'll just sneak in quietly. Don't worry if you hear the door jiggle or anything.”

“Okay, I might see if I can read the next story by myself.”

Gabe walked out as the sun set, aiming to walk to town and take a cab back. His wallet was stuffed and his stomach was empty. God, how ready was he for some drinks to drown in and some tasty bodies to feast his eyes on! Since that damn letter, nothing had been right. His grandparents always made him feel this way; they sucked the joy out of everything! 

 

Eventually, memories of the place he was headed to started to grow stronger than the worries of the present or condemnation of the past. By the time he reached his destination, Gabe almost had his typical devil-may-care smirk on his lips.

 

Alzafellas Inn housed his favorite bar in the city. Granted, most people had never heard of it, or if they had, regarded it with sneers and several choice epithets; certainly, outside his circle it was referred to simply as a ‘fag’s speakeasy.’ 

But, fag bar or not, it was a great place. Good shows, good hearty food, though greasy and sometimes overly salty or spicy, depending upon who was cooking that night. And the drinks…imported rums and every imaginable beer and liquor available. For such a club in a town like this, it fared quite well, due in part to several wealthy patrons, who paid well for discretion and a good night out. They, and Gabe himself had as well, oft frequented the inn upstairs, renting a room for somewhere to spend the night with their latest amorous interest. After all, it wasn’t quite as if you could just take someone like that home… 

 

He got in around 8:00, after an hour’s walk through the crisp evening, greeted by the muffled sounds of the band when the doorman, a grizzled man named Klaus, opened the spy flap. 

 

“What do you say?”  
“Well, Alzie called, and I’ve been missing his cooking.” Gabe grinned. 

 

“A’right, in ya go.”

 

After the door shut, Klaus continued, “T’night TD’s cooking since she ain’t on stage. Have a one of her burgers.” The doorman raised his voice so that Gabe could hear him over the spare, but still loud, band in the back room, where the performances happened. 

Gabe nodded, heading to the counter.

 

“Hey, a burger, with the fries and a hard seltzer. To start,” he grinned, yelling to the bartender so that he could be heard. 

 

“Gotcha.” 

Gabe headed to the back room, where the smoky air crackled with the noise of the brass that played in the pit before the stage. While a spare selection, the performers had enough grit and skill to more than make up for it. Gabe enjoyed the performance, settling into a chair at a table to wait for his food. 

 

His food arrived soon enough, before the nighttime crowd hit, and he watched the early show, a singer who lounged about with the microphone in a comedically amorous way, at times miming that he was blowing the phallic item instead of singing into it. 

He had nearly finished his burger, when a guy he knew quite well sidled up to him. Gabe grinned. Thom was always great for...conversation.

“Hey, G! I haven't seen you in forever! I thought your fam had locked you up in some ivory tower 'til an appropriate spouse could be found.” Thom elbowed him, nearly making him spill his seltzer. 

Gabe shrugged still grinning, and replied easily, “Eh, they've not caught me yet. Naw, I've just been kinda busy lately. I decided to come back when I realized my head was getting screwed on a little too tight” 

“Haha, your head got screwed on too tight? Everyone in this damn bar knows you have a few too many loose!” 

Gabe knew he'd get that response. It was a little joke between them. Somehow after all the effort he put in to helping Sas, it wasn't so flattering that everyone saw him as a flightly know-nothing. Gabe grimaced into his drink and listened to Thom chatter on.

Gabe wanted to be interested. Hell, a few months ago the nonsense coming out of Thom's mouth, every other sentence an innuendo, would have had him chuckling heartily. He could not help but compare Thom's meaningless drivel, words meant only to get him in the sack whether or not they were true, to Sasquatch's honest gratitude over something as simple as reading lessons.

Eventually, the main show started, and Gabe used it as an excuse to get away with a beer in hand.

Gabe lost himself in the growing crowd and the music, the lights and dance of the drag queens. He downed more beer and just pretended that his life was Alzefellas, no grandparents, no worries, just booze, music, and dance.

He started dancing with an anonymous stranger. Nothing to think about but the gyrations of the body, muscle on muscle. It felt so good to be held, to be touched like he wasn't something disgusting, something kept out of familial obligation. Sas understood that...he still seemed surprised sometimes when Gabe's touch failed to cause pain. Looking up, the eyes weren't a dark brown, but a sky blue. The hair, instead of a messy dirty blond was jet black cut close to the head.

Upset with himself, but resigned that peace couldn't be found in this haven, Gabe headed towards the exit. The drag queens were just leaving the stage, and before he left, Gabe handed a handful of bills to Nora Delores, the best performer in the house and an old friend of his. He couldn't help feeling as though he was saying goodbye when Nora responded with a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“Damn boy, you know how to make a girl happy,” Nora winked, tossing his hair behind him. He smiled back, though far less enthusiastically, tiredness setting in. “You heading home boy? The night’s just getting started, ain’t even one yet!” 

Gabe nodded. “Yeah, kinda tired. Have a nice night. I'll see ya later eh?” 

As he turned to continue his trek to the door, a familiar face with a cocky grin approached him. “Heeey, Gabe, _buddy_ , why'd you leave me all alone like that? I missed ya!” Thom pouted, catching him by the shoulder. Gabe could tell that he was already piss drunk. 

“Sorry, Thom.” Gabe faked a cough, “I'm just not feeling too hot tonight. Raincheck?” 

“Awww! I was hoping we could get a little _fun_ in before the night ended. Come on Gabey, for old time's sake. Just one little roll in the sack?”

Gabe shook his head, sighing. “I gotta go, Thom. I'll catch ya later” Freeing his jacket from Thom's fingers, Gabe finally left Alzafellas Inn. 

Gabe moved quickly over the pavement, needing to walk off the unexplainable feeling of _wrong_ left from Thom's fingers curled into his jacket. 

He was about a block away, walking up the street towards the boulevard’s corner where he usually caught a cab, when a loud noise rang out, blinding lights flashing from down the block-- sirens, the sound of a battering ram on a door—god fucking damn it, he realized, looking up the block from where he had stepped into the shadows. Alzie’s was being stormed. 

He hurried a couple buildings over to a quieter tavern he’d been to once or twice, and nodded to the doorman, saying as he walked, “Please tell the bartender I’ll have a neat vodka, I’ll be upstairs,” pressing cash into the man’s hand. 

He kept going up the stairs to the tavern’s third floor deck, where people dined earlier in the night while the band was still playing. He watched from his vantage point, gut sinking as he stared into the blue and red lights and listened to the distant screams and shouts, grimacing at the glint of street light off the barrels of guns and tips of batons. His shuddered in horror, his imagination filling in what he could not see. Coppers hated anything and anyone who was not “normal”. The queens would be eaten alive.

Suddenly, he no longer had to use his imagination. Someone came running up the street at the base of the tavern building, screaming. Oh, god. It was Thom. Police were just feet behind him; grabbing a hold of him, they slammed him brutally against the building. Gabe could hear the fists and batons. Poor drunk Thom could not realize that he was only making it harder on himself by talking. Gabe wanted to move; his shoes may as well have been cement. 

“Nanny Nanny Boo Boo! Hey fellas you're breaking the rules! You ain't supposed to touch this. I'm a good guy, you're the monsters beating up the wonderful ci-ci-citizens of this place. Eh you're even hurting royalty! A queen's gotta make a-a living you know”

“Nasty motherfucking fag,” said one, a painful-sounding groan coming from Thom.

“Yeah, the camps are too good for him. Loyalty don't mean nothing to freaks like him. Talking about how we're the monsters...” Here, the sound of a man clearing his throat traveled to Gabe “Bulls-eye right on the freak's face!” 

On and on it went, Thom saying more and riling the cops up...them screaming obscenities in his face and no doubt punching him black-and-blue. By the time the police car came round to pick them up, Gabe almost considered it a mercy until sentence made his blood run cold.

“Freak would learn a bit about manners after a stay at the camps!” 

The camps were where _undesirables_ went if slavery wasn't an option (read:if one's parents were rich enough to pay a fee to avoid the embarrassment of having a slave in the family or if a slave had one strike too many). Officially, it was the more humane option. Those under threat of it knew better. Rarely did someone make it out of the camps, and if they did, they were almost completely unrecognizable. All signs of undesired behavior, of personality, were removed with only a small tattoo to show that it was ever there to begin with.

Gabe sat without noting the passage of time. He absentmindedly sipped his vodka while his body tried to stop shivering from fear and guilt. No more police sirens could be seen or heard. The silence was deafening while the faces of his friends flashed before his eyes. Eventually, he was hauled out of the tavern, and a cab was called. 

When Gabe stumbled into the loft, a crash was heard. Huh...that butt-ugly vase was broken on the ground. The lights turned on, and he spied Sassy looking at him with wide eyes. Gabe didn't realize that he was still shivering until Sas came over and silently pulled him over to the couch. Tentatively, Sas wrapped a blanket around Gabe's shoulders, holding him gently in his arms. Tucked safe in those arms, suddenly Gabe had permission to cry, to scream, to yell at the injustice.

Sasquatch's arms tightened instinctively around him as words poured out. Gabe told him that his home had been destroyed by the authorities. Gabe told about his friends and how they had been beaten for something they could not change. Sasquatch understood. 

Eventually, the tears and words ceased. Sasquatch hmmm'd to get Gabe's attention and suggested a cup of tea before bed.

“Thanks Sas,” Gabe mumbled, slumping down now that Sas wasn't holding him up anymore. 

 

A few quiet minutes later, Sam was back in the living room with Gabe’s tea. He took it, silently mulling the grim events of the night over its steam. 

“It wasn't your fault you know. I know it feels like it. I know it feels like you should have done _something_ , should have gotten beaten with them, but it wouldn't have done any good. I know. Finish your tea. Your friends would be happy that you got away.”

“Oh, god, Sas…” Gabe murmured, leaning in, and Sam caught him in another hug, one of camaraderie and understanding about hardship.

An eternity later, the tea mugs were empty on the table, and Gabe's head was resting on Sam's lap. As sleep finally claimed the tormented man, all he knew was that he wasn't alone. For the first time in forever, he wasn't alone


	15. Pictures of a Brother and A Play pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking place after the events of chapter 13, Sam is given another gift by Gabe, and a new character is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the accidental hiatus! Major thanks to anyone who is actually still reading this!

_Hours passed before the two fell silent from telling stories to each other. Possibly because Sam was sharing about his lost brother, Gabe’s stories all seemed to feature Cas. Sam went to bed feeling rejuvenated. It felt as though he had regained Dean in some small way. It felt good to be able to talk about his protective, older brother, and Gabe promised to try to draw a picture of Dean based on Sam’s descriptions the next day. Gabe found himself nearly overwhelmed. He had seen a side of Sam that he never knew existed. Both men found comfort in the other. Sam carried the burden of believing that his separation from Dean was his own fault. Gabe carried the guilt of knowing that Cas died because he left. As Gabe went to bed, he made a decision. He couldn’t get Cas back, but he would do anything possible to return Dean to Sam._

A very busy week had passed since Gabe witnessed Sam’s attack. With the removal of Sam’s secret came a surprising closeness between the two men. Gabe discovered that before Sam started living with him, his attacks happened several times a week as opposed to how it was now (which according to Sam was only once or twice a month since the debacle at his grandparents). Gabe and Sam theorized that having access to hearty meals and working less had helped. Of course, with this conclusion came an immense need to cook for Sam. It took two days to convince Gabe that no, Sam did _not_ need a dozen pancakes to himself at breakfast. 

After that though, things seemed to go relatively back to normal (at least as far Sam was concerned). Gabe still had some very important goals to accomplish.

\----------

It was an interesting challenge to try to create an image of someone he’d never met based only on Sam’s hazy memories; Gabe figured he got something right when he saw the wistful smile on Sam’s soft lips. 

“That...that’s him. I mean, you did a really good job, Gabe. Thank you for this.” Sam bit his lip...how could he explain that he wasn’t merely thanking Gabe for a picture? Sam knew the hours that had been spent to create it, both time alone in the studio and time drilling Sam on whether Dean had had dimples or whether dirty-blond meant blond with a little brown or brown with some blond. Yes, Sam knew the effort that went into the painting, but that wasn’t why his heart shuddered in thanks. The picture (which Gabe had gently taken and hung next to Sam’s own portrait) signified proof that Dean was real, and his existence was worth being remembered. Sam stood alongside Gabe, gazing at the two portraits...they were beautiful even as he realized that he was now older than his brother had been when they last saw each other.

Gabe could see sparkles in Sam’s eyes as they stood there and bumped shoulders to ease the solemnity of the moment. Sam’s laugh seemed...fragile. Even knowing that the painting must have blatant inaccuracies if only because of the age of the memories used to create it, Gabe could see a familial resemblance between the two brothers. His determination to reunite the brothers doubled, even as the echo of that laugh cautioned against false hope.

\----------

As a Novak, finding a slave that had labored for Novak Industries should have been relatively painless. A quick search in the records for the slave ID would give Gabe every bit of information necessary. Unfortunately, when Gabe asked Sam about it, all he learned was that Dean was a period of Sam’s life before he thought of everyone in terms of numbers, and why would Mr. “I’m not good with numbers, I’ll call you Sasquatch” care about that anyway? Gabe changed the topic but continued to toss around ways to find Dean without the number at night. 

Time passed. While Gabe had not given up on his search, he spent a good portion of his days just enjoying life with Sam, coming up with new ways to make him smile. 

\----------

“Hey Gabe, you’ve got mail!” Sam hollered. Gabe came out of his studio with charcoal smeared on his cheek. “Anything interesting?” Sam hid his smile while he rifled through the various envelopes. “Junk, junk, bill, bill, check from that dude who bought the weird paint splatter thing-” “-hey! I’ll have you know that abstract art is quite in style among the elite these days” Gabe mock growled. “Uhhuh, well personally, I prefer your portraits. Ooooh, looks like Gabe’s got an admirer. Hmm...the lipstick on the envelope is a bit much...know any Ruby’s?” Sam teased. 

Gabe flushed. Yeah he knew Ruby. Their acquaintance started when he was still trying to earn his grandparents’ approval. He had hired the struggling actress to play the role of pretend girlfriend. When he eventually tried to leave his grandparents’ influence, she had let him stay on her couch for a while. The kiss on the envelope was simply a reference to their first meeting. In spite of the embarrassment, Gabe was glad to hear from his old friend and wondered what she was up to nowadays. 

The letter was short, sweet, and to the point. It seemed that Ruby had hit it big in the anti-establishment arts and played a significant role in a controversial play written to make fun of the elite. She had written to Gabe to invite him (and a friend) to see the show.

A cough reminded Gabe that he hadn’t actually answered Sam. Hmmm.... Gabe realized that outside of the debacle at his grandparents, Sam really hadn’t been outside much. He wondered if he’d like to see the play. Yeah, a play making fun of the elite should be right up Sam’s alley. 

“Sorry, Sam. Ruby’s an old friend. It seems she’s in that new play everyone’s complaining about, and she wanted to invite me and a +1 to see it Saturday night. What do you say?”

Sam blinked, his head tilted to the side. Why would he care if Gabe went to see a play? He just hoped that he didn’t bring _Ruby_ or whoever Gabe’s +1 would be back to their loft. 

“Sure? I mean okay. How long do you think you’ll be out, Saturday?” 

Gabe chuckled, realizing the miscommunication. Damn he loved that puppy head-tilt thing! 

“I meant, ‘how’d you like to see the show with me?’ Sam. I’ve heard of this play’s director. His plays...don’t exactly attract the average fella. It’ll mostly be arist-types with a beef against society. Come on. It’ll be fun” 

Sam fidgeted. It did sound like it would be fun….Plus he could meet this Ruby chick. He wasn’t quite sure about her.

“Okay, I guess I can go if you’re sure it won’t cause any problems.”

Gabe smiled as he reassured Sam that the crowd would be pretty chill. He really looked forward to taking Sam to see the town on Saturday. It would be a blast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough age guide:  
> Sam is 22  
> Dean is 26  
> They were separated when Sam was about 11 and Dean was 15.  
> Gabe is 27  
> He stormed out on his grandparents when he was 20 and Cas was 15. He tried to live completely on his own for a few years, but eventually came home to discover his baby brother was dead. Since then, he has lived in a loft paid for by his grandparents but interacts with them as little as possible.
> 
> Please comment, I'm hoping to get pt 2 of this chapter up in a few days.


	16. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hours before Ruby's play, Sam and Gabe angst about could-be's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would have had this out a lot sooner, but an introductory topic for pt 2 decided it wanted its own chapter LOL. Least I didn't make y'all wait as long?

Happiness. Excitement. The world faded away as Sam followed Gabe into the theater. The play would begin any minute. The crowd was thicker here; Gabe was moving too quickly. Someone grabbed Sam’s arm, restraining him. “Well lookie here; Slave thinks it’s gonna waltz right in to watch the show,” repulsive cigar smoke was blown into Sam’s face as he continued to struggle against the man frog marching him out of the building. He was struck for his troubles. If Gabe didn’t find him fast… “Don’t worry Slave-boy, I know an auction house that’ll find you a new master real quick and pay me for my public service too. I’m just saving your master the trouble; ain’t like he cares!” Cruel laughter echoed in Sam’s head as he jolted awake. Tonight was the play. How had he not thought of the potential consequences before?

Sam tossed and turned until it was finally time to get up. He worried about others’ reactions, worried about being taken without Gabe’s knowledge. While part of him liked the idea of going out, of seeing the play, Sam felt conflicted knowing that he’d be the only slave there to watch instead of just to serve his master. At breakfast, Sam tried to hesitantly bring up the idea of his not going so as to not cause a scene. Gabe just reassured him that that wouldn’t be a problem. That still didn’t fix the very real risk of his being taken though.

Sam idly rubbed the back of his neck. Most days, he didn’t even think of the numbers there - he’d had 50283 branded on his neck and wrists almost as long as he could remember, a visible sign of his status as a worthless slave. Sam knew that he could not afford to leave Gabe’s side tonight. Regardless of how Gabe saw him, how he was starting to see himself, those numbers declared to the world that he was an it whom no one would miss. Healthy as he now was, his bare neck would be a siren’s call to those aiming to make a quick buck. Were he to be separated from Gabe, Sam knew there was every chance that his nightmare would become a reality.

It never occurred to Sam that Gabe might have thought about the risks, never did he contemplate that protection was within reach. He had lived with the knowledge that he could be stolen from whoever his current master was for more than 15 years. Hell, he had even exploited that fact at times, conniving to be taken out in public in the hope that, were he taken, he might have a chance at a better master. Only slaves of value could feel a relative security in their position by way of a collar. Slaves were like dogs in a way…owners marked those they wanted to keep. With one, any freeman who found you without your owner was legally obligated to return you. Without a collar, any Tom, Dick, or Harry could make a grab for you to do with as they pleased. Sam had never had a collar. Who would bother collaring a cheap-ass freak like him? _50283_ was not an asset that masters wanted to be associated with having owned. Somehow, Sam could not piece together the idea that maybe, just maybe Gabe would be willing to make such a blatant claim if it meant keeping Sam safe. The concept was too great a jump. The part of Sam that associated Gabe with kindness, safety, even a facsimile of freedom, was incapable of seeing the man as master.

\-------

Said master was having a crisis of his own. While outwardly he was dressed to impress with his signature cocky grin, Gabe knew that he was a wreck. Gabe trusted most of the people who would be at Ruby’s performance, but he also knew that the only way Sam would be truly safe was for him to...wear proof of Gabe’s ownership. Every aspect of his being revolted against placing a collar on Sam’s throat. A tiny voice acknowledged that because of its absence, their loft was really just a gilded cage for the stranger who had become his closest friend. His imagination betrayed him with scenario after scenario of Sam at the play, both with and without the band around his neck. Without it, he could be taken. With it, they would return to the loft with an impenetrable wall between them. Gabe’s heart ached even while his hand fisted around his most recent purchase, a purchase he itched to burn. He wanted call the whole thing off - Sam deserved to leave these walls. Gabe wanted to claim sickness - he’d not lied to Sam before. Gabe knew that he had made his bed. Now he would have to lie in it, come what may. Just as he had decided to see Sam and get it over with, his door swung open….Sam was standing there, his eyes shining resolutely? Gabe could tell the moment that Sam saw the collar hanging innocently in his hand. His eyes and posture changed but not in the way Gabe expected.

Sam could hardly comprehend what his eyes were seeing. After hours of going back and forth, he had finally decided to just bite the bullet and seek Gabe’s permission to stay in the loft. Bursting into Gabe’s room, something unthinkable just a few short months ago, Sam had just opened his mouth to make his plea when his eyes caught the light flickering off of...a golden clasp? Within Gabe’s hands was an object that Sam had never believed would ever be his. His body trembled with emotion, he would have collapsed had Gabe’s strong arms not been wrapped around him gently.

Eventually, Sam came to realize that he was sitting beside Gabe, his fingers wrinkling the hem of his shirt. His ears heard himself making nearly incoherent pleas, begging for the protection and assurance that were nearly within reach. Gabe was affirming that the collar was only for his protection, he didn’t have to wear it in the loft, he just wanted to make sure that Sam couldn’t be taken from him, he would be safe from harm. After an eternity, Sam had calmed enough for them to finish getting ready for tonight. It took a while to convince Gabe that he was fine and wanted to go, but Sam managed. He didn’t think that he could fully believe this to be true until he left the safety of the loft. 

Before they left, Gabe reiterated _again_ to Sam that they didn’t have to stay if it was too much and that the collar would be removed the moment they returned home. Sam hid a smile at Gabe’s consideration, and simply stated that he knew Gabe would keep him safe and shouldn’t they have left ten minutes ago?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please R&R. Your comments are what keep us motivated!


	17. Pictures of a Brother and a Play pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the long awaited play; a secret becomes known, and a matchmaker or two start to get ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are alive and so sorry for the crazy hiatuses we put you guys through. Real Life has gotten hectic for both cybergirl614 and me, but we are both committed to bringing this to its conclusion. Any grammar/spelling errors should be placed on MAPMonstersArePerceptions' shoulders. Both cybergirl and I are tired and figured you'd prefer an update to waiting for us to be awake enough to fix the little details.

After the emotional afternoon, Gabe was looking forward to seeing tonight's comedy. While walking towards the theatre, he kept surreptitiously stealing glances at Sam. It was a bewildering image. He was a picture perfect mimicry of how a slave “should” be in public. His head was bowed, neck collared, hands crossed; mimicry was all it was. In spite of his physical stance, Gabe could not help but feel as though Sam was standing tall. He had an aura of confidence about him, confidence in himself and in Gabe. The fear that Gabe now realized controlled their every interaction had dissipated. He was in awe of Sam and wondered if others could see the vibrant strength in his... friend. He was suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to touch Sam, hold his hand, something. It was almost worse to know that no one would even say anything about a master touching his slave. He had no wish to touch a slave though. He wanted to touch Sam, the one man who lacked the ability to tell him to fuck off. Gabe stuffed his hands into his pockets, claiming to be cold when he noticed Sam’s covert glance. Neither commented that the weather barely called for a light jacket.

Sam’s mind was spinning. Here he was sitting in seating reserved for the _who’s who_ elite of those connected in some way with the theatre. Yeah, Sam knew that he was here to see a play, but somehow, _where_ he would be had largely escaped his concerns. He knew there were glances, those who saw him and felt he should know his place - kneeling on the floor ready to serve his master rather than seated as a king waiting to be entertained. Every standard of behavior that he knew, stated that his presence be an embarrassment to Gabe. Watching Gabe return from getting some popcorn with his silly grin, somehow he doubted that Gabe saw it that way. 

Throughout the first half, Gabe kept...inviting him to join in on the humor. Sam initially had tried to blend in, had hidden the parts that made him want to laugh. Then, after a particularly amusing scene involving the Mistress of the Manor (a character who rather resembled Gabe’s grandmother) slipping quite comedically on the floor she’d ordered to be cleaned, Gabe poked him. When their eyes met, both sparkling with the humor of a shared joke, laughter flowed freely. It was easier to just let himself be and enjoy the show. The glares to the back of his head could be ignored. In a few hours, he would be wrapped in the safety of the loft. For now, the heat of Gabe’s arm bumping against his reminded him that he was safe.

During Intermission, Gabe and Sam went to take a leak - Gabe to the left, Sam to the right where the slaves’ facilities resided. Knowing that Gabe would not mind if he took a few minutes and wanting to seem less like the self-absorbed pet he knew the other slaves saw him as, Sam let the others lining outside the dirty “bathroom” go first. He knew most of them would have masters that wanted them back immediately. Finally, he could leave the whispers and snide comments behind and find Gabe. Turning yet another corner in the maze masquerading as a theatre, Sam stopped and hurriedly made his way back the way he came. Ahead in the deserted hallway was Gabe engaged in...certain activities with an unknown man. Heart pounding, Sam returned to his seat and the stares….He didn’t know what to think about what he had just seen. The taboo against homosexual relations had bitten him in the ass more times than he cared to think about when masters decided to get rid of their urges with his body. After all, sex with a slave was no different than using one’s hand to get off. Sam knew that he should feel scared. Gabe’s proclivities were not good news. Either Sam would become intimately aware of his sexual prowess, or if Gabe continued such actions in public, he would eventually get caught, and Sam would end up sold. Before Sam could decide how he to respond to this new information, Gabe had returned, scowling. Before Sam could speak up, the lights had dimmed again. In spite of the low lighting, Gabe seemed to notice his tense posture and gave a companionable shoulder bump, scowl no longer in place. Sam breathed deeply, reminding himself that Gabe was good; Gabe was safe. In the month’s that they had lived together, Gabe had never forced him, and he wasn’t out of the house often enough for such illicit behavior to be a common thing. Maybe that guy was just an old fling, and they were just catching up….Sam ignored the tiny voice suggesting that...certain activities...might not be so bad with his quirky master.

\------------

“Loki, you trickster you! It’s been too long. What have you been up to? Still sticking it to that harpy masquerading as a grandmother, I hope. How’d you like my portrayal by the way? When I got this role, I knew just who to emulate!”

Meeting Ruby at the after-party was...interesting. Oh without a doubt she was terrifying. Her entire demeanor suggested a woman who knew what she wanted and would get it, no matter the cost. Somehow Gabe didn’t appear to notice her ‘will squash you like a bug’ vibe as he amicably talked about old times and changes in hairstyle. Unfortunately, Gabe was no more interested in Sam behaving ‘properly’ at the party (read: quietly trying to become one with the wall to escape notice) than he was at the theatre. While Gabe was catching up with his old friend, he constantly tried to bring Sam into the conversation. Surprisingly, Ruby didn’t protest the behavior but actually seemed to view it as a hilarious example of “Loki’s” rebellious nature. At least that is how Sam interpreted her smirk whenever Gabe would turn towards Sam. After a while, Sam started to almost feel comfortable with Ruby, even managing to use first names once Gabe assured him that it was safe to do so around her. Things progressed such that, when Gabe was called over by another friend, Sam didn’t protest staying with the brunet. 

\-----------

“You make him happy, you know. I haven’t seen him this relaxed since…” 

“Since his brother?” Sam supplied.

“He told you about Cas? My, my...you really have gotten past Loki’s walls, haven’t you?”

Sam didn’t comment. He knew that Gabe had all but demolished his own; it was a new concept to think that something similar could be said about him. 

“Don’t believe me, _Sam?_ ” She emphasized the name Gabe had told her mockingly. She knew her friend well enough to know that, had he chosen the name, it wouldn’t be something so ordinary. Since slaves were referred to by their numbers, that could only mean that Sam was the slave’s chosen name. 

“Take a look at him. There was a time when Luci would have had his complete attention. Now he can’t go two minutes without looking at you, making sure you’re alright. You have him wrapped around your finger. What I want to know is...are you worthy of it?”

Before Sam could stutter out a response to that, Gabe provided a distraction by suddenly punching the man. Half of the crowd seemed to be frozen in shock. The other half jeered. Apparently, ‘Luci’ wasn’t terribly well liked. Somehow, Ruby’s commentary didn’t help Sam that much.

“Lucifer Pellegrino a.k.a. Lucky Luci...a more lecherous man you never did see, even by theatre standards. The people cheering are either jilted lovers or the spouse of another notch on his bedpost. The ones in shock are wondering just what could make Easy-Going Gabriel snap on him like that.”

“You don’t seem very shocked, if you don’t mind me saying,”

“Course I’m not. Obviously, Luci noticed Loki’s eye candy and wanted a piece of it. If this was a year ago, Gabe would’ve been indifferent, and his +1 would have fallen under Lucifer’s spell. It’s the epitome of irony that his first attempt at monogamy is with a slave. I hope you realize that.” Ruby faked a yawn as if the entire topic was boring her though she didn’t quite manage to wipe the smirk off her face.

“It...it’s not like that! Even if Gabe held...certain interests...obviously my body doesn’t meet his standards. He has never demanded that from me!” Remembering the fever that had raged shortly after he came to the loft, Sam added softly “Even when I was _helpless_ in his bed, he didn’t do anything.”

Further debate was prevented when the object of said debate rejoined them cradling his hand.

“You okay with cutting the evening short, Sam? I need to cool off my knuckle, and the staff claim to be out of ice...I’m finding the company a bit dull as well, with the exception of the _talented_ Ruby of course.” Here Gabe mock-bowed to Ruby who merely made shoo-ing motions with her hands. 

\-------

As the two returned to the loft, Gabe asked what the pair had talked about. 

“Oh this and that, Gabe...this and that. Your friend seems nice, but I had to explain to her that my duties here do not include sex.” Sam stated all of this rather quickly. He didn’t want Gabe to think that he would allow such ideas to go unabated; he was hardly anyone’s idea of an ideal pleasure slave after all.

Meanwhile, Gabe thought back to the end of the Ruby and Sam’s conversation, having overheard the tail-end of it. Yeah, Sam had protested vehemently in his favor, but he had to wonder if there was something more to it. There seemed to be a spark in the gaze of his friends. As much as Gabe wanted Sam, he knew that it could never happen. Sam and Ruby however...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell us if anyone is still reading this?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! We hope to update this fic once a week though if you wanna help us accomplish that, comments and kudos always help :) That's what helps us know if anyone is interested. Thanks for anyone who has already commented/kudo'd Darkness in a Bright Place. Expect to hear from us in a week!


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